


i'm always just a step from you

by MaximillianDelirium



Series: The Mage Wars [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Feud, M/M, Magic, Romance, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1487047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaximillianDelirium/pseuds/MaximillianDelirium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He recalls the old days, when he was not so jaded. Mathias has always been the enemy. That's just how it is. But Mathias was not like the others. His soul resonated at a different frequency. He was fierce and horrible and arrogant and he smiled like the sun breaking through the clouds. Such power and energy in one body. He was an explosion waiting to happen.<br/>Lukas is trapped in memory. Copenhagen. Prague. The last time they saw each other. There was blood and smoke. He aches all the way down his spine. From impressionable childhood to the cold reality of adulthood. From the halcyon days when their gifts were first making themselves known in the warmest spring they'd ever known, to the coldest winter of the war.<br/>A damp wind slaps him in the face. His eyes snap open. There's an appointment he must keep. It has to be tonight. There is no time to lose.<br/>Not when Mathias Køhler is involved."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this one for a couple of months and reasoned it was time to post it. This is hopefully the start to a series, seeing as I'm rather enjoying the world.

He doesn't care about the darkening sky. There are more important things to worry about, even though the coming rain could erase his hastily scratched circle. He bleeds.

His laces are coming undone. The edges of his jeans are caked with mud. Sweat adheres his t-shirt to his back, and a cold wind hits him full in the face, the scent of ozone smacking him straight in the nose. There is no more running.

“Bondevik.”

He turns. The enemy is here, his scarf whipping in the wind. He is just as winded, perhaps even worse for wear. A fresh wound beneath his eye smears red across his cheekbones.

Lukas looks down at his circle. He's drawn it correctly. This is his last resort. He meets the other man's eyes. They are electric blue and dangerous. There is no anger there, no hate, only regret.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he says.

Lukas takes in a breath and holds it there. He shakes his head. Surprisingly, he feels no fear. He thought that, perhaps, when faced with death, there would be _something_. Terror. Nausea. But there is nothing.

The man steps forward, a ball of lightning materializing in his hand. He says nothing. He doesn't wish to hurt Lukas, so he'll make this quick. Efficient and painless, the signature style of Oxenstierna.

Lukas looks down, then shouts a word in the old language. The circle ignites with blue fire and he is gone, pulled away by another force. The lightning sails through empty air. In the abandoned playground, rain falls.

 

He feels his cheek pressed against familiar floorboards. Lukas takes a shuddering breath. He's shaking all over. It takes a while for him to stand up, then even longer for him to stumble from his chalk circle and sink into an old armchair.

There's not much time. He has to move, and fast. But he's so tired. He scuffs some of the chalk on the circle, just in case the marks in the dirt are still intact, leaving Berwald an open gateway through which to pursue him.

Lukas looks around the room. There is no sentimentality for the place. It was nothing more than an outpost, a place to nest for the time being. He forces himself to stand.

His suitcase is in the closet. It will be child's play to buy tickets for a train online. There are other towns, other places he can run to. And there are allies.

 

Mathias wakes up to the sound of his apartment being broken into. He lies very still in bed, eyes half open. There is always the possibility that this is just an ordinary burglar. It's a very slim possibility.

He hears deliberately quiet footsteps outside his bedroom door. His hands shake. Feigning sleep doesn't sound like a very good idea. He begins to sit up just as the door crashes inward.

“Shit!” The intruder ducks as a bolt of fire slams into the frame behind him, leaving an ugly black singe mark. Mathias is about to fire another round when the intruder turns on the lights. “It's me! Jesus, put that away.”

Mathias grins sheepishly. “Sorry. You know, if you didn't want to get roasted, you shouldn't break into other people's apartments.”

Antonio huffs, but he is also smiling. “It's an emergency. And you were asleep.” Mathias glances at his clock. “It's 3AM!”

“ _A quien madruga, Dios le ayuda_ ,” Antonio replies. “Get up!” He claps his hands twice and loudly. Wincing, Mathias drags himself from his bed. It takes him longer than Antonio is patient for to get dressed. Everything in his room is out of order.

“What's the emergency?” Mathias says with a yawn.

“They know we're here and they're closing in. It's probably only a couple of hours before they find this house,” Antonio says, looking at all the clothes strewn on the floor. “Are you good at packing fast?”

Mathias drops the shirt he's holding. “What?”

“It's that Kirkland guy too. And I think Elizaveta's with him as well. They sent in the big guns.” He's still grinning. Mathias can only stare at him in horror.

“They're coming here?” he says, pointing at the floor.

“Where else?” Antonio shrugs. “We're the only two here. It's either my house or yours. Don't worry, I'm already packed and ready to go. Got us seats on the first bus out of here.”

Mathias quickly retrieves his shirt and pulls it over his head. He rushes from the room and returns with his biggest suitcase. Antonio helps him toss articles of clothing into it, along with a plastic bag of toiletries that Mathias has set aside for emergencies. He runs back and forth between his room and the living room, choosing his favorite books (plus the magical ones. Those are dangerous).

“Ah, just like old times,” Antonio says. “You know, it was getting kind of boring here anyway. Always good to be traveling, no?”

Mathia smirks.

 

They're leaving the house by the back door, each carrying a suitcase and bus tickets, when a pair of figures step into the alley. One is a man with thick eyebrows. The other is a woman, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. The man wears a black coat. The woman is dressed more naturally, in greens and blues, with thick leggings and brown boots. Mathias and Antonio skid to a halt.

“Going somewhere?” the man says.

“Yeah,” Mathias says. “We've got a bus to catch.”

“Afraid you're going to have to miss it, boys,” the man says, pulling on a pair of black gloves. The woman beside him slides her purse off her arm. It clangs as it drops to the ground. Antonio doesn't hesitate. A wall of fire springs up between him and the dangerous pair. Mathias doesn't need to be told to run. He spins on his heel and races down the alley, suitcase in tow. There's no way he's leaving it behind; not with all the books of magic contained within.

The air shimmers in front of him, and the woman is suddenly standing there, a heavy, dark object raised above her head. He only narrowly dodges her swing. He throws an energy pulse at her. The impact knocks her back, but doesn't floor her. Mathias tries to heft the suitcase at her, to no avail.

Meanwhile, the man with the thick eyebrows stalks through the flame, somehow impervious to them. Antonio laughs. “Wow! Nice one, Arthur! _¡Asombroso!_ ”

Arthur doesn't mince words. He hits Antonio with a hard bolt of magic that sends him careening into the wall. The Spaniard laughs again, then returns with fire. Small flames spring up along Arthur Kirkland's arms and legs, but have no affect. The Englishman merely glances at them and they wither away.

“A valiant effort,” he says, “but not good enough.” He kicks Antonio in the chest, sending him to the ground. “You've gotten weaker, Carriedo.”

Mathias ducks another one of Elizaveta's swings. A blow from whatever she's holding is going to be nasty, even if it isn't enchanted (although it is). She's got a very strong arm.

“Let's talk about this,” he says. “You don't actually want to kill me, do you?”

“Yes.” Swing. Miss. “I do.” Swing. Miss.

Mathias wishes he could summon his weapon. It would take a considerable amount of energy and time that he doesn't have, however, not while he's dodging Elizaveta's vicious attacks. Behind him, he hears Antonio destroying the alleyway.

Even with all the noise, the neighbors aren't waking up to see what all the racket is. Probably a sound cancellation over this entire area. The enemy is nothing if not thorough. Ordinary people would get in the way, and neither side wants any sort of collateral damage.

Suddenly, there's a sound like breaking glass, and the entire alley is choked with fog. Mathias, just ducking away from another blow, can no longer see anything. He coughs. There's a light touch on his shoulder.

“This way.” It's not Antonio's voice, but it's familiar. Mathias grasps the handle of his suitcase more tightly and runs. He can make out Arthur and Elizaveta's coughs and their attempts to disperse the fog, but it's useless. This lasts for a good two hours, dismissal or no. Mathias can't believe his luck.

Once they're clear of the fog, Mathias sees that Antonio has also made his way out safely. Their savior whistles. Antonio is covered with bruises. His left eye is already swelling closed.

“You are getting reckless, _mon ami_.”

Antonio wags a finger. “You don't have any room to talk, Francis.”

Francis smooths his golden hair behind one ear, affecting a look of nonchalance. “You can thank me for saving you later. For now, we must get to the bus station and quickly. Here, _ma pauvre_. Let me fix your face.”

Mathias begins to breathe normally again. He glances over his shoulder. It seems they're in the clear. For now.

 

Arthur and Elizaveta eventually manage their way out of the fog. It's Elizaveta who curses first, hurling her frying pan at the wall. Sparks fly. Arthur is obviously fuming, trying to hold it in.

“That is the last time they make fools out of us.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lukas's cellphone goes off, waking him. As he eases it out of his pocket, he glances at the other passengers. It's careless to fall asleep on public transport. Any one of these people could be the enemy. He checks the screen. Arthur.

“Hello?”

“We lost them. We had them caught and we lost them. Lord knows where they are now. What about you? You said that you thought someone had found you.”

“He did,” Lukas says. “But I got away. I doubt he'll follow me.”

“Who was it?”

“Oxenstierna. And yours?”

“Carriedo and Køhler. And Bonnefoy. That last trick had his stench all over it.” Lukas can hear the Englishman grinding his teeth. “Køhler had an obscene amount of magical texts as well. We checked his flat. He's cleared the place out.”

Lukas closes his eyes briefly. All that knowledge. In the hands of the enemy. “Alright. I'll see if I can find them anywhere.”

“Any bit helps. Thank you.”

They hang up. Arthur doesn't ask where Lukas is heading now. Lukas doesn't ask where Arthur is either. Any loose information can be deadly. Lukas leans back in his seat. Køhler. The bookkeeper. He hasn't seen him since Prague. What a strange little reunion it will be.

Magical books are a problem. Old dogs can learn new tricks, if they have the right resources. Lukas's only comfort is that they don't have his particular talent, the one he and Arthur share. Only one person on their side has that ability, and it's vastly limited. Outside, the nighttime landscape flashes by.

 

Mathias gazes at the clusters of black umbrellas that cover the street. He stands in his own cluster with Antonio and Francis. They all look like unassuming men, standing shoulder to shoulder, wearing dark coats and elegant scarves (in the case of Francis).

“Ah,” the Frenchman says, his eyebrows lifting. He points to a pair of young men approaching. Both of them carry deep red umbrellas, and are dressed very similarly in dark blue coats. Their most distinguishing feature are the mirror image curls that stick out from the sides of their heads like they refuse to be included with the rest of their hair. One is smiling; the other scowls at everything.

“ _Ciao_ ,” says the smiling one. “It's good to see you, Antonio. Francis.” They all kiss cheeks. When the young man turns to him, Mathias nervously follows the ritual, brushing the side of his face against the young man's in what he hopes is a polite manner. He smells strongly of spices.

The scowling young man kisses only Antonio, who beams radiantly, murmuring something in Italian. The young man flushes.

“Feliciano, Lovino,” Francis says. “This is Mathias. I don't think you've met yet. Mathias, this is Feliciano and Lovino Vargas.” He helpfully indicates which is which.

Lovino continues to scowl. Feliciano nods and smiles. “Well, we'd better get going. I hope you don't mind sharing rooms. Not a lot of space.”

“Not at all,” Antonio says. “Come on, everyone.”

They follow the Vargas brothers out of the public square.

 

The Vargas's have money. To be honest, Mathias does as well, but the Vargas's clearly spend theirs: hard wood floors, granite counter tops, nice leather furniture. The whole place is warded too. Mathias bets the twins never have to suddenly pack up and move. The enemy probably can't even find them.

It's a very homey type of magic, very comfortable. Even though it's a swank apartment, there are touches of humble living. A couple of pictures here and there, a paperback with a bookmark in it.

Feliciano takes Mathias's suitcase. “I'll put it in the guest room, okay? Great.”

Mathias is a little reluctant to part with it, but he knows Feliciano is trustworthy. If Antonio trusts them, then he can. After all, they are on the same side.

Lovino leans on the counter. “So why did you come here?” he demands.

“We got chased out of our old digs,” Antonio explains. “This is a safe place. Besides, I wanted to see how you're doing. I worry, _mi querido_.”

Lovino's face turns red again. Mathias hides his smirk. Though Antonio has never mentioned it, there is, without a doubt, something between him and the young Italian. “Shut up,” the Italian says. “So they found you. How are you sure you didn't lead them straight here?”

“They couldn't have,” Francis says. “I made sure.”

Lovino sighs and turns to the fridge. “Whatever. It would take a fucking nuclear warhead to get past our defenses anyway.”

“You have to put a quarter in the swear jar,” Feliciano says, reappearing in the room. “I heard it.”

Lovino grumbles a bit more and digs through his pockets for a quarter. There's an enormous half filled jar on the counter next to a vase of flowers. Feliciano turns to Antonio. “I'm helping him stop swearing. It's not good for his blood pressure.”

“I'm really proud of you, Lovino!” Antonio says, grinning.

“Cram it!”

Mathias smiles. After the events of last night, all this is a relief. But he can't rest yet. There's something he must do.

 

Old books have a distinct smell. Mathias likes the mingled scent of leather and old parchment, and the way the pages feel beneath his fingertips. He's always been a bookkeeper, even with no books to keep. Now that he has them, his duties weigh on him even heavier. So many new spells; so many ways they could go wrong.

The sad truth is that their “war” is little more than brief skirmishes and running. Always running. But with these grimoires in their possession, they could finally go on the offensive. Mathias is giddy with anticipation. He's not a particularly ambitious guy, but he does love the thought of finally making a stand. Because the other side is powerful. He takes a deep breath and opens the first volume.

 

Lukas has never had a particular fondness for any city, but this one is nice. Even if it is raining. He isn't bothered by the cold. He steps off the platform and looks around. What he needs is a empty lot, a place where he won't be disturbed. Urban life doesn't appeal to him.

It takes over two hours to find both a place to sleep and a place to perform a summoning. The hostel isn't the best, but it will do. The lot is much better. He ignores the warning sign on the fence and climbs over it.

The lot is mostly turned to mud by now, but Lukas can work with that. He smooths it out with the flat of his sneakers, then makes the necessary marks with a stiff piece of wire he found lying around.

He'll never forget the first time he met a _jotun_. It was completely by accident and it was wounded, hunched behind his house. It towered over everything and turned the air frosty cold (or, colder than before. It was the middle of Norwegian winter). Lukas had been six. To summon one of those was unnecessary, however. _Jotuns_ are good for combat and protection. What he needs is information, a way to track those books. And if anything can smell magic, it's the fae.

They also like to talk a lot. Sometimes it's hard to shut them up. Lukas tries to drown them out to the best of his ability. Though he's favored by them, he knows that on their most base level, they are liars and cheats and will do anything to escape control. But they'll come when he calls.

The thing he summons is blue with shapely legs. It's hairless. When it opens its eyes, there are completely yellow, all the way through the whites. “What do you want?” it snaps.

Lukas ignores the irritable tone and says, “I need you to help me find something. Books of magic. You're to return to me and tell me where they are the moment you find them.”

The thing turns over in midair, its yellow eyes never leaving Lukas's face. “I don't do things for free. The others might bow to your every whim, but I...” It trails off. Lukas holds an iron bar in one gloved hand.

“Go. Don't waste my time.”


	3. Chapter 3

Mathias wakes up with his cheek stuck to the open page of a book. Sunlight creeps in between the blinds. Someone is knocking on his door, calling his name. Mathias wipes away what might be spit from the corner of his mouth and examines the book. His sleeping on it hasn't appeared to harm it in the slightest.

“Mathias!”

He answers the door. Antonio stands outside, fully dressed. He gives Mathias a once over, then clucks his tongue. “You were up until midnight again, weren't you?”

“More like 2AM.” He glances over his shoulder. There's loose leaf all over the floor. He must have fallen asleep mid translation. “What's up?”

“I came to say goodbye,” Antonio says, smiling. “I would stay longer, but I've got places to be.” He leans forward and gives Mathias a quick hug. “The boys will take care of you until you decide to move on. Ignore Lovino's moods. He's just a sourpuss.” He laughs. Mathias smiles back.

“What are you going to do?”

“Revenge?” Antonio's smile is less pleasant. “Or perhaps a minor strike. Not much. Anyway, there's a train leaving in an hour, so I'll see you later. Give me a call if you need help. But remember: only for emergencies.” He winks and turns down the hall.

 

To think he's so close. Lukas's hands tremble with anticipation. He puts them in his pockets. How has Mathias changed? What will he say when he sees him again? Maybe it would be better to say nothing at all.

He recalls the old days, when he was not so jaded. Mathias has always been the enemy. That's just how it is. But Mathias was not like the others. His soul resonated at a different frequency. He was fierce and horrible and arrogant and he smiled like the sun breaking through the clouds. Such power and energy in one body. He was an explosion waiting to happen.

Lukas is trapped in memory. Copenhagen. Prague. The last time they saw each other. There was blood and smoke. He aches all the way down his spine. From impressionable childhood to the cold reality of adulthood. From the halcyon days when their gifts were first making themselves known in the warmest spring they'd ever known, to the coldest winter of the war.

A damp wind slaps him in the face. His eyes snap open. There's an appointment he must keep. It has to be tonight. There is no time to lose.

Not when Mathias Køhler is involved.

 

Mathias can't concentrate in the apartment. The brothers are noisy in everything they do. Magical books are difficult to translate even in the best conditions. Mathias isn't the quietest of men, but even he can appreciate moments of peace. Eventually, he has no choice but to leave the apartment, one of the volumes safely tucked into a shoulder bag.

As he leaves, he notices the brothers in the kitchen, making something together. They speak quickly in Italian, too fast for Mathias to understand. Mathias considers interrupting what might be an argument to tell them where he's going, but thinks better of it. He would rather not face down Lovino when he's angry.

He knows it's not as safe outside the Vargas brothers' warm living room, but it's worth the risk. Every town has a library. There, among the books, he knows things will be alright. No one would dare start a fight there.

The brothers don't notice him leave. They don't even hear the door open and shut.

 

It was a spring like no other. Mathias was eighteen and in love with the world. This was before he knew his role in the war, before he was even aware of the war. The world was on the cusp of a revolution. Electricity, planes, suffragettes. While the rest of Europe worried about the tangled web of alliances pulling them toward conflict, Mathias was concerned with finding his way through Copenhagen.

It was chance that brought them together. If Mathias had not been curious, he never would have entered the bookshop, never would have felt the tiny buzz of magic that led him to the boy sitting between the stacks, alone and silent, a heavy book on his lap.

They had looked at each other with innocence.

They weren't enemies yet.

He is so wrapped up in the text that he doesn't notice when he falls asleep. Mathias wakes up when his notebook falls off the table. Another patron, sitting at a table across from his, gives him a dirty look. Mathias grins sheepishly and retrieves his translation notes.

He had been dreaming. It was a dream of the past, as most of his were. His brain had conjured up an image of a park, looking at the sky through the leaves of a tree, joke after joke spilling from his lips to get one smile, one single solitary smile to appear. Just for him.

The memory brings him pain now. The happiness of the past is forever lost. It's the war that's to blame. Mathias tries his best not to remember. He tries. If he didn't, he would fall into a hole from which there was no escape. So here he is, half smiling, alone in a library, the pain blooming from his center until it encompasses him.

It wasn't wise of him to doze off. Anyone could have shown up and stolen the book out from under him. He should have gotten coffee, but he doesn't care for it anymore. Last night's late hours had taken more from him than they'd given.

Once all the books are translated, they will pass the information on to the rest of their ranks. Mathias isn't sure how it will be done. It's sensitive information. It would be simple enough for the enemy to tap their phones, break into their accounts. The convenience of the modern world existed for only an instant.

Outside, the day is dimming. He has been here for hours. There is an ache in his hips from the hard chair and his lower back pops as he sits up straight. By now, the Vargas brothers might be wondering where he's gone. He checks his phone. They haven't called.

Mathias hopes he remembers the way back. He packs up his things, satisfied with the work he's done so far, and steps outside. The air is still rain fresh. The sky has turned a deeper shade of blue, the kind that appears at twilight. After the quiet of the library, the chatter of ordinary people seems amplified. They order coffee, they argue. A shout rings across the street. He smiles to himself.

But one voice slices through the rest. It is ice cold, withering the conversation around it, the noise of the street. Mathias stiffens. He knows that voice. He will never forget that voice. Never.

“Mathias.”

 

Lukas. Beautiful, cold Lukas. They had first laid eyes on each other in that bookstore and had last done so in Prague, in the midst of a battle. Years and years stretch between them. They had thought it was a gap too wide to cross.

Except here he is, unchanged. Here he is, his dark blue eyes staring straight into Mathias's, as they did that first day. Now they are in the creeping dark. And they are enemies.

Mathias breathes in and releases his name on the exhale. “Lukas.” Beautiful, cold Lukas. Lukas, whom he tried to make laugh. Lukas, whom he loved, once. Lukas, who reopened every old wound he had and rubbed salt into them. Lukas, who leaves Mathias raw.

Lukas had words prepared, but he has lost them now. The unguarded look in Mathias's eyes stops him. All that grief, that passion. It takes his breath away. He hates Mathias for that. He hates him. He doesn't wish to remember looking up and seeing those young eyes, curious and kind.

When Mathias calls him by name, he is thrust backward through time, back to days spent wandering through parks, lying under trees, staying out until the sun touched the horizon. No, no. He will not remember. He will not be made sentimental.

He should not have come. He is too connected. He is weak still. Lukas winds his scarf around his hand. This is not the scene they should be playing. Mathias must know what he's here for, but he hasn't moved.

“The books,” Lukas finally says. There is nothing else to say.

Mathias shakes his head. “Lukas, no.” His hand slides protectively over his bag.

“If you give them to me...” he trails off. If you give them to me, I'll let you go. If you give them to me, I won't have to hurt you. I won't have to fight you. I won't have to fight myself. “Hand them over, Mathias.”

“I don't want us to fight,” Mathias says, but his hand is outstretched, palm down. People might see. It doesn't matter. “Let me go, Lukas. You already have enough.”

“If we had enough,” Lukas says tightly, “you would not be alive.”

Mathias's lower lip trembles, but his jaw hardens. It hurts. It hurts beyond belief. This is worse than the memory. That was stale pain; this is fresh. He doesn't want to threaten Lukas (beautiful, cold Lukas).

There are bags underneath Lukas's eyes. Mathias is hungry. They are both so tired. Their energies are expended. If they battled now, they would collapse from exhaustion. And neither can stand to swing their fist at the other's face.

Lukas steps forward. He wants the Dane to see. He wants him to know that he's only making things more complicated. This pain would be gone sooner if he handed over the books – even one would do. I want to feel nothing, he thinks. I want to be numb.

If it comes to blows, he will not win. He is smaller than Mathias. Mathias has his weapon, though he hasn't summoned it yet. But he also seems drained. His face is hollow. They might both drop to the pavement, unconscious.

His feet wobble beneath him and Lukas almost falls from the curb and Mathias doesn't think before he winds an arm around the other man's waist, pulling them chest to chest. He hasn't been this close to Lukas's eyes in years and has forgotten the way they light up when he is surprised.

Lukas clutches Mathias's shoulders to steady himself and finds that he is caught in a position of vulnerability. He should let go of Mathia's jacket, should push him away. Instead they stand like that for a full minute. No words pass between them.

Fear. Mathias is afraid. He's afraid of everything that could happen between them at this very moment. Once, he could have laughed and set Lukas on his feet again but now he can't, for the simple reason that if he lets Lukas go now, the man will run and they will never see each other again. And he can't stand that.

He leans in and kisses him on the mouth, as delicate as a leaf on the wind. Lukas's lips part and he breathes in, drawing a small measure of Mathias's soul into his lungs. They melt into each other. Lukas's fingers press against his back and his heart – oh God – it feels _awake_. Mathias slides the flat of his hand up Lukas's spine, curling his palm around the nape of his neck. His skin is warm there, almost feverish. Lukas tastes of black coffee and smells like rain and magic.

Enemy magic.

Mathias pulls back, horrified. Lukas stares up at him, blue eyes wide and reflective beneath the street lamp. He knows too. What they have done... it's a betrayal. Immediately, what made Mathias's soul come alive mere seconds ago now turns him ill. Lukas slides from his arms, shaking his head, but he does not run. They are there, under the streetlight, companions in guilt.

What's worse is that Mathias would do it again. Presented with the same choice – letting Lukas go or kissing him – he would take the latter. The pain that he has dammed away for years is spilling out. And the love...?

Lukas puts his fingers to his lips. He can still taste Mathias there. He wears mint lip balm. It tingles. He doesn't know what came over him, only that it was a mistake to kiss back, to allow Mathias to violate him.

“Lukas,” Mathias says. “I'm sorry. I don't know...”

“Stay back.” Mathias hasn't moved forward, but Lukas steps back, colliding softly with the wall. His stomach clenches. Lukas does not fear. He taught himself not to years ago. How dare he be afraid of Mathias? How dare Mathias do this to him?

He always ruined everything. Lukas should have known not to trust him. He was getting sentimental. Time to end it now.

Mathias rakes his fingers through his hair. He licks his lower lip, half to erase Lukas's touch, half to recapture that taste he always hated. “Don't run away. Please.”

His voice is low, pleading. Lukas's feet are planted here. He will not move until Mathias does. Strange how he can't even bear to run away.

“Let's leave the street,” Lukas says.

 

Mathias lies awake in the middle of the night, wracked with guilt and probably fear. Weak light slants in through the gap between the curtains. If Lukas feels the same gut-wrenching emotion, he doesn't show it. Though he's awake as well, which might be a sign of some inner torment Mathias isn't allowed to see.

Lukas sleeps – or does not sleep – on top of the sheets, curled on his side. Mathias lies on his back, staring at the textured pattern of the ceiling. There is a space between them on the bed, maybe no more than several inches, but it may as well be an ocean.

“Mathias,” Lukas says as flatly as he can manage. His accent betrays him; it turns everything into a song. “What are we going to do?”

We. What are _we_ going to do? Mathias places his hands over his eyes. Berwald had no trouble being a turncoat in himself, but the mistrust and unease that everyone around him could not help but feel suffocated any ability to treat him as one of their own. Mathias could not – would not – be like him. He couldn't turn his back on his friends, his allies, because of...

He uncovers his eyes and finally looks at Lukas. Lukas lies still, not turning. He is further in denial of Mathias, as if pretending he does not exist will dissolve his every emotion.

“Lukas,” Mathias says, hoping to call the man's attention. “Lukas,” he repeats.

“I don't love you,” Lukas says in answer. “It was a mistake. I don't love you.” He says it again so that he can try to believe it.

“Lukas, I love you.”

“You don't either. I don't love you.” But this repetition does not erase the things he's thought, the words unsaid burning his tongue. It does not erase the yearning he has felt for years and years – since Copenhagen, since Prague, since an hour ago when he looked at Mathias Køhler for the first time in ages and remembered what it was to feel desperate and conflicted. It does not erase the fact that he hears that voice in his deepest dreams, that he has waited, patiently, for the day they might meet again and yet dread, because to meet was to fight, perhaps to the death.

Mathias has long since given up his denial, his obstructions of the one certainty in his life. He's said the words in his head in ten languages, when it wanders late at night on forays into the wilds of his dreams.

And as dawn slowly creeps toward the world, Mathias puts an arm around Lukas and anchors them both, kissing his hair and murmuring his name.

“Lukas, Lukas, Lukas.”

And, ever so softly back, “Mathias, Mathias, Mathias.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared for some waiting, I'm afraid. Thanks to everyone reading. I hope you stick around.

What is there left to dream of? While Mathias wanders through the hallowed halls of their past, Lukas looks to the future, and all he sees is destruction. They have each made their choice. It is too late to reverse that decision now. Instead, they must consider what lies ahead.

Lukas should have killed Mathias, not tried to talk to him. It would have been easier if he hadn't seen his eyes, if he hadn't heard his voice. But he did and here they are, pressed against one another as if they will drift away.

If they continue like this, they will die. Lukas knows it. He is sure Mathias must. Berwald made his switch early enough for them to release him without bloodshed. It is too late for Mathias and Lukas. Mathias and Lukas, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers.

Is that what they are now? Lovers? They have shared one kiss – and what a kiss that was – but does that make them lovers? There might be hope left.

Lukas is lying to himself. Mathias's breath is warm against his neck. He likes to be held this way. He has ached for Mathias's presence, even when cursing his name. Who knew that when their paths crossed again, they would be unable to contain themselves?

They have always loved each other. Always. Not from that first moment, of course, but perhaps from the first time Mathias succeeded in coaxing a smile from Lukas. Perhaps from the first time that Lukas played the fiddle for Mathias. They bickered often, but everyone knew they were a joint creature. One was scarcely without the other. They had fallen asleep like this before, on a couch, when Mathias was drunk. And perhaps he had slurred into Lukas's ear, “I love you.”

Lukas is sick of these memories. His clenches his jaw and presses his cheek to the pillow. He repeats to himself, “I do not love him” in his mind. It doesn't work, just as before. It is too late to go back, to deny what he's known for years, practically a century.

He loves Mathias Køhler.

That is the truth.

 

Mathias emerges from troubled sleep to find that Lukas is gone from the bed. At first, he thinks that he's disappeared in the night. It would be better for both of them if that were true. But no, he's sitting by the window, nursing a cup of coffee.

“What do we do?” he asks.

_We_. It should be more satisfying to think of themselves as a pair. Mathias sits up and shrugs. They have narrow options. Several of the paths before them end in death.

Neither of them will change sides. He knows that. He would rather cut his hands off than betray his friends. Lukas feels the same. The enemy has made him strong. He's smarter than that.

They watch each other. How can someone change so much, yet remain so similar? Those are Lukas's eyes in his face, but those aren't his clothes. That isn't his shame. They've aged, a little. Gone are the innocent looks of youth, the flush of color. Lukas has been washed out.

“We can't see each other again,” Lukas says. “Ever. It has to end here.”

Mathias nods. Who knows what might happen if they stayed in each other's company. The danger overrules their personal feelings. He's survived one heartbreak; he can do it again.

Lukas drinks his coffee. When they were younger, Lukas seemed to drink nothing else and always took it black. In an attempt to impress him, Mathias had started as well. He'd learned to tolerate the taste, but his ability to drink it vanished the same night Lukas did.

Mathias still feels sleepy. He gets a cup for himself, then pours in three packets of sugar. Lukas looks on disapprovingly. He lost the right to disapprove of Mathias's taste long ago. Mathias ignores him and returns to the bed. He must start distancing himself.

“We don't talk about this either,” Lukas says. “Understand?”

Mathias hums and nods. He's not stupid. He wouldn't have breathed a word of this to another soul. His love for Lukas is his and his alone. “I'll have to lie about where I've been.”

“You can do that. You always do that.”

Mathias is pleased to hear the undisguised bitterness in Lukas's voice. He used to have to work for that. It seems last night's events have destroyed most of the walls between them. “Still jealous of all the girls in Copenhagen?”

Lukas chokes on his coffee and flushes briefly. His skin is too pale for an attractive blush. “I wasn't jealous...” he begins.

“You were.”

Lukas rolls his eyes. “I forgot how annoying you were. I wouldn't have kissed you if I hadn't been so tired.”

Mathias would call his bluff, but it's better to pretend that Lukas doesn't have real feelings for him. Maybe it will hurt less. Even with all the sugar in it, his coffee is still unbearably bitter. Mathias sets it aside.

Lukas drains his cup, then pours himself another. Mathias wonders at how good it tasted when it was on Lukas's mouth and _he must stop thinking about it_ , otherwise he might do it again and then they'll both be sorry. Why is he lingering here? Every moment they spend this close to each other and not fighting, they risk being caught.

“What will you tell your side?” Mathias asks. “I won't give you the book.”

“Can't you give me one? I could say that you wouldn't tell me where the others were.”

Mathias looks at his bag, slumped next to the night stand. He still has the notes. They will have that before the enemy. And if he can keep the others, it's not such a huge loss. But even so, he can't see himself giving Lukas anything.

Lukas sets his mug down with force. “Fine. Then I'll just say that I couldn't find you. Not that they'll believe me. They know our history.”

Mathias shuts his eyes. Of course they would. How embarrassing. He can see them now, laughing at their failed friendship. He only hoped they weren't watching now. This room wasn't warded. They hadn't thought of it last night.

“I'll let you have the book,” he concedes. “But I keep the rest. And I keep my notes.”

“Fair.” Lukas stands, brushing down his shirt. It's a plain black t-shirt. All of Lukas's clothes are nondescript, save for his hair clip. Whatever Lukas does for the enemy, he doesn't want to be picked out of a crowd.

Mathias wants to know why he chose them. Why he decided to abandon Mathias. He can't ask. Last night may have altered them, but not so much that they can forgive each other. Not so much that they can trust each other. Lukas takes the book from Mathias's bag and looks at it. He runs his fingers across the cover. He places it carefully in his own bag, then lays it on a chair. Watching Lukas's slender fingers reminds Mathias of other talents.

“Do you still play?”

“The violin?”

“What else?”

Lukas nods. He resisted, in the early days. He wouldn't play for Mathias, no matter how much he offered. Not even when Mathias promised to stop talking for an entire day. He will never play for him again.

“We have to fight,” Lukas says, meeting Mathias's eyes. “They won't believe I got this without a struggle.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Mathias says.

“Did you think we could avoid this?”

He was hoping. He was hoping that they wouldn't. Last night, instead of releasing the exhausted Lukas to the hard ground and stamping on his chest, Mathias kissed him, which may have caused him greater injury. He made his choice. He won't hurt Lukas.

“Don't be childish. You're always so stubborn,” Lukas says. “Do you want them to kill you for treason?”

Mathias swings out his arms. “Where are we supposed to fight? Not in here.”

“Silence field,” Lukas replies. “There's an alley in the back. We'll do it there.” Mathias wishes he had some other way to argue. There's nothing he can say to dissuade Lukas. The Norwegian man gathers his bag and goes to the door. “I'll wait for you. When you're ready to face the real world, you can come out.”

Then he's gone. Mathias throws a pillow across the room and puts his face in his hands.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit late, but I'm in the middle of a huge life transition (college).

The discovery of their powers had been wonderful at first. Mathias had set a few things on fire, Lukas turned a painting into each of its separate parts (which drained him considerably). All in all, they were giddy. With powers like theirs, the city lay in the palms of their hands. They could be kings...

“I wonder how much we can do,” Mathias wondered aloud, his leg dangling off the side of the couch. He swung it back and forth, eyes trained on the ceiling. “Do you think there are others?”

“Of course there are others. We can't be the only two wizards in the world.” For a moment, Lukas let himself imagine what the others must be like. Would they be the same age or would they be old men with white beards?

Mathias jumped up, his energy suddenly renewed. “It's so exciting!” He spun around, arms outstretched. Several objects began to levitate, including Lukas's chair.

“Put me down!” he snapped, losing his composure for a moment.

The chair returned to the floor with a thump. Mathias fell and skidded forward on his knees to bring his head level with Lukas's lap. “I feel like I could lift the whole world,” he said, pressing his cheek to Lukas's thigh.

Lukas looked away. He didn't have much patience for Mathias's puppy dog act. He stood up and crossed the room to the window. They had drawn the curtains to prevent suspicious eyes from seeing their magic in action. As he opened them, he noticed a flicker of movement that might have been a pigeon taking off from the gutter.

Now he knows that they were watched.

 

Mathias hates to think of what Lukas will do to him in a few seconds. The last time they saw each other, Mathias hobbled away from the battle with more scars and broken ribs. Lukas has a way of detaching himself that frightens Mathias more than anything else in the world.

When he walks into the alley, Lukas is sitting on top of a dumpster, swinging his legs. He looks at Mathias. His gaze reveals nothing. He's already put his heart somewhere else. Mathias tries to mask his disappointment.

Normally, he would welcome a fight. On a good day, he's invincible. No matter what the enemy throws at him, he can take it. The adrenaline of battle is so pure, so undiluted. A long time ago, he thought it would be impossible to raise a hand against Lukas, but that was proven wrong, amongst other things he believed. For the first time in ages, he feels that way again.

Lukas slides off the dumpster. He raises his hands. No words then. No apologies or goodbyes. This really is the end. Mathias shuts his eyes. He'll take the first blow. It'll wake him up.

Lukas's magic hits him in the gut, propelling him into the far wall. The bricks bite into his back. Lukas has gotten stronger. Mathias coughs. All the air just shot out of his lungs. He falls to the ground with a gasp.

This isn't a battle with Lukas. This is a battle with the enemy. Mathias holds out a hand and gropes for his weapon. He pulls it out of the air, curling his fingers around its handle, ripping the blade from in between dimensions. The air crackles around it.

He's almost too late to dodge the next attack. Almost. He rolls to the side, tightening his grip on the ax. Mathias's head throbs from where it hit the wall. Lukas is deadly calm as Mathias rushes him. There's a second when Mathias thinks one of them could actually be killed.

A shot of pure blue light hits his legs. They're encased in ice. The shock of being stopped so suddenly causes him to let go of the ax. It spins away. Mathias is a wizard though. He prefers the ax, but it's not his crutch.

Lukas dances away from the flames that burst up around his feet. He circles Mathias, who manages to free one foot from the ice. He kicks Lukas in the chest. The smaller man stumbles back. Mathias throws a bolt of magic at him, sending Lukas to the ground. Mathias wrenches his other leg free and dives to retrieve the ax.

As soon as his hand closes around it, a foot slams down on his wrist, almost hard enough to break it. He cries out and attempts to burn Lukas's clothes. Another shot of ice pins his hand to the ground. Lukas's shoe connects with his face. It slams into his side.

There's no magic now, just beating. Lukas falls to his knees, trapping Mathias between his legs. He raises a fist and it comes down, again and again, and Mathias can't help but feel as though some emotion is leaking out of the person he loves.

Finally, it stops. Mathias sucks in a pained breath. He's pretty sure he has a black eye coming on. Lukas is panting and his cheeks are flushed and Mathias can tell he's struggling. Lukas's fists open and close. He falls forward, bracing himself so that he hovers over Mathias's head, blocking out the faint morning sun.

“I'm done with you,” Lukas says. “I'm done.”

Mathias has nothing to say to that. He could beg Lukas to stay with him, to remind him that what they felt was real, that it doesn't have to end here. None of it would work, not even when Lukas's emotions are bubbling so close to the surface.

Lukas's cool fingers trace his jaw. Mathias closes his eyes. He wants to believe that Lukas is sad as he stands up. He wants to believe that Lukas's violence toward him matters more than he lets on. So he doesn't look.

All he will see is a blank space.

 

Lukas's hands are not his own. He's outside himself. The faces that pass him are blurry. He thought he might feel better by putting his frustration into his punches, but if anything, he feels worse. There's a sickness inside him, dissolving his organs.

He darts through the crowd, one arm lying protectively over the bag. He should have had the courage to take it through the traditional means. If he and Mathias had fought equally, then everything would be the same as it always has. Why did Mathias just lie there? He could have gotten up or struggled or even sliced into Lukas with his ax. But he didn't.

If it's because Mathias loves him, then it's a greater weakness than Lukas thought. Or Mathias is a masochist. That seems less likely. Lukas has seen how Mathias fights. Cocky. Almost enjoying it. Lukas fights as a means to an end; Mathias fights for entertainment.

Then there was nothing that gave him pleasure in this fight.

If they see each other again...

They will not see each other again.

 

Mathias opens his eyes to see the Vargas brothers hovering over him. Feliciano's face is a portrait of concern; his older brother's is darker.

“Get up,” Lovino commands.

Mathias tries. His head spins. Lukas has beaten him badly. It still startles him – the stark contrast between Lukas's blows and the softness of his lips.

The brothers help him up. Feliciano is gentler, keeping a hand on Mathias's back. Anger radiates from Lovino, tinged with strong magic. They sit him upright against the wall.

“So, you were out all night, didn't tell us where the hell you were and lost the book,” Lovino says. “Was it worth it?”

Mathias thinks of Lukas and nearly says yes. He stops himself just in time. “I still have my notes,” he says.

Lovino sighs. Meanwhile, Feliciano bends over him, tenderly touching Mathias's bruises. A warmth prickles beneath Mathias's skin and soon the pain all but disappears, shrinking to a faint pulse. Feliciano, deep in concentration, says nothing, but bites his lip.

When he finishes, he says, “That was dangerous. You should have stayed at the apartment.”

Mathias checks his face. No blood, no lumps. Feliciano Vargas is a gifted healer. “I wanted to get some work done.”

“It was reckless,” Lovino hisses. His amber eyes burn. “You could have been killed. We could have lost our Bookkeeper.”

The seriousness of his departure is not lost on Mathias, but he thinks they're being sort of unfair. “It won't happen again,” he promises. He won't. Lukas will never see him again. They decided.

Lovino looks like he wants to say something more, but is interrupted by his brother.

“He was just trying to do his job,” Feliciano points out. “And he's alive. That's good, right?”

Lovino hesitates, then shrugs. “Well, I guess it wasn't a total loss. Just remember,” he adds, getting so close to Mathias's face that he can smell the coffee on his breath ( _Lukas_ ), “You're with us because it's the safest place to be. If you compromise that safety, your ass is mine to deal with. I am not as nice as my brother. Got it?”

Mathias nods. His throat feels dry. Feliciano looks on with only the slightest worry in his expression. For the first time, he feels as though the Vargas brothers are much older than him.

“Well, uh...” Feliciano says, breaking the tension. “Why don't we go back home now?”

“Sure,” Lovino says, stepping back.

Mathias stands slowly and is surprised to find just how thoroughly Feliciano healed him. He glances at the young Italian, searching for some sign of fatigue, but he appears as chipper as ever. A healing of this degree should have weakened him somewhat.

Feliciano must be more powerful than he lets on.

Lukas is acutely aware of the book's presence in his bag, almost as if it's burning a hole through the material. If the enemy knew – and they probably know by now – they would be pursuing him, tracing the book's magic.

Lukas is nearly nervous, but the thought of Mathias's fellows chasing after him makes his fingers itch. They never agreed to keep everything about last night a secret. For all he knows, Mathias could be describing Lukas to them right now.

At least he has the book. Arthur will translate it, they'll use what they learn from it and maybe they'll finally win. “Winning” entails several things, however, and nothing is set in stone. Lukas might have grabbed the weakest tome of them all. Still, a small victory is better than none.

The train is quiet, allowing Lukas to think of Mathias again. Poor, delusional Mathias, with his flat accent and messy hair. Hurting Mathias was both uncomplicated and difficult. He doesn't know if he'll ever come to terms with it.

He looks at his reflection in the window. Mathias did manage to give him a few noticeable injuries, affording him a few curious looks. They'll be enough to convince the others that there was a struggle and that Mathias lost. That's enough. Lukas sinks into his seat, holding the bag in his lap.

It has always been easy for him to pretend, to close himself off unnecessary emotion. Except with Mathias. Mathias knows him so well that even the slightest twitch of Lukas's lip is as easy to read as a light up billboard. Lukas used to take comfort in that; now he's terrified that everyone who looks at him can see the contents of his heart.

“Lukas.”

He looks up. Arthur is here, sliding into the seat beside him. While Lukas is rumpled from sleeping in his clothes, Arthur looks the perfect gentleman in his pressed shirt and neatly knotted tie. He crosses one leg over the other as he sits.

“Sorry to turn up like this,” Arthur says. “I trust that you did the job.”

“Yes.” Lukas places the bag on Arthur's knees. Arthur raises his eyebrows – an impressive feat, considering how much there is to lift – but doesn't look inside. He doesn't have to. He can feel the power emanating from within.

“Well done,” he says. “And Køhler?”

Lukas keeps his expression blank. “He put up a fight, as you can see, so I only got away with one.” He touches the faint bruise beneath his eye. “I wasn't able to kill him.”

Arthur is clearly displeased, but says only, “I'm sure there will be more chances in the future.” The refined nature of his accent does little to conceal the darkness in his tone. “What will you do now?”

“I'm going to visit my brother.” It's a split second decision, but it's probably the best choice he can make right now. Spending time with Emil will clear his head of Mathias, at least for a little while.

“Sounds reasonable,” Arthur says. “Where is he now?”

Of course they'll want to keep tabs on him. Lukas thinks back to their last conversation. “Helsinki,” he says.

“Be careful,” Arthur warns. “I know for a fact that we have enemies there. I would be cautious about being seen if I were you. You've always been adamant about your brother's involvement in this war.”

Lukas is surprised that Arthur would mention this, but then he notices the way the Englishman's eyes have grown distant. Oh yes, how could he not bring it up, when he too had tried to protect someone he loved?

“Anyway,” Arthur says, regaining his composure, “I'll leave you to it then. Thank you.” He pauses before adding, “Was it difficult for you? I know you and Køhler...”

“No,” Lukas says. “That's all in the past.”

 

Once they return to the apartment, the Vargas brothers drop their business attitudes and fall back into their domestic roles. Mathias notices that they are both dressed fashionably – another display of wealth – and in subtly matching colors. Lovino wears warm reds and browns, while Feliciano is in blue. They were probably dressed alike as kids.

Seeing this, Mathias pictures Lukas's younger brother. So alike, yet so different. If he's seen little of Lukas in the past hundred years, he's seen even less of his brother. Mathias remembers him as an easily agitated young man, trying to imitate his older brother's stoicism. Brothers. He's surrounded by brothers. Everyone has family but him. He could have had a family once, but like all things, it was broken apart by the war.

“Are you hungry?” Feliciano's voice cuts through his thoughts. Mathias starts. The Vargas brothers have, it seems, little respect for personal space. It might be a cultural thing. Mathias doesn't mind it so much. Physical proximity has only been a problem with Lukas.

“Sure,” Mathias says with a smile.

Feliciano returns it. “I'll make something then.”

He turns toward the kitchen, a spring in his step. It looks like the younger Vargas has forgiven him. As for the elder...

Lovino regards him from across the room, where he leans on the granite counter. He succeeds at being intimidating. “Who attacked you?” he asks, getting straight to the point.

Mathias hesitates. How much should he reveal? His instincts tell him to protect Lukas. He swallows. “It happened kind of fast. I didn't get a good look at him.”

Lovino holds his gaze for another few moments, then accepts Mathias's lie with a soft curse.

“Swear jar,” Feliciano calls over the rush of the faucet.

“Look closer next time,” Lovino grumbles as he drops some money in the jar.

“Will do.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To write the accent, or to not write the accent. That is the question. Anyway, plot is happening now. Strap in.

It takes a few days to reach Finland and not that long at all to reach its capital. Lukas pretends not to speak Finnish as to spare himself the struggle. It's comforting to slide back into Norwegian. It's also a relief to have handed on the book. He's glad Arthur came to meet him.

The cold is nothing he can't handle, but he buys himself a new scarf anyway. He hasn't visited in years and it looks so different to him now. It takes him longer to find a private spot to do a locator spell. The alley isn't as good as the empty lot, but it serves his purpose. Once the spell is done, it's a short journey to his brother's apartment. Lukas knows his visit will be unexpected. He also knows that Emil won't turn him away.

When Emil answers the door, he pulls Lukas inside by his coat. “What are you doing here?” he says, looking his older brother up and down in shock.

Emil is relatively unchanged, which is comforting in ways Lukas can never verbally express. He's dressed for home, in worn jeans, a sweater, and sock feet. Lukas hears the automatic shutoff of an electric kettle and glances toward the kitchen.

“Wait here,” Emil says. “You might as well get comfortable.”

Lukas steps out of his shoes and peels off his coat. Emil's couch looks inviting. After sleeping on trains for the past few nights, Lukas is looking forward to lying down. For now, he tucks his legs underneath him and looks around.

Emil's latest is small, even smaller than Lukas's previous temporary home. Emil has always been insistent about money. “I'll be fine on my own. I don't need a mansion,” he said. Lukas finds it cozy. Normal. He takes a magazine from the coffee table.

Emil returns with a pair of mugs. Lukas accepts his, cupping it in his palms. “Thanks,” he says. He doesn't drink from it right away. “You know I can't warn you when I'm coming over.”

“I know,” Emil says, “but I can't always just let you in.”

“It's worked so far.”

“What if someone else is staying with me?”

Lukas raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Er, anyway,” Emil says, knowing he can't win, “why are you here?”

Lukas looks down at his mug. There are plenty of reasons, but he fails to zero in on just one. Emil is the only person he can be consistently honest with, yet the thought of telling him about Mathias fills him with worry.

“I saw him again,” he admits, taking a tentative sip of hot chocolate. He prefers coffee, but he won't complain.

Emil's eyes widen. “What happened?”

“We fought. I won. End of story.”

Except Emil knows it isn't the end of the story. He frowns. “So after all these years, you just beat him up and left. I have a hard time believing that.”

“It's a war, Emil,” Lukas says. “There isn't a lot of time for reminiscing.”

“You two were close. You can't look at me and say you didn't feel anything.”

Lukas runs his thumb down the handle of the mug. He's forgotten that Emil can read him as well as Mathias can, if not better. He might already know that how Lukas feels. Telling him could be dangerous. As much as his side has given him, Lukas knows better than to trust them completely. If they want information, they'll use any means to get it, including Emil.

“We _were_ close,” Lukas says. “Things change.”

And how they change. Lukas feels a phantom of Mathias's kiss and his skin warms. He will never tell Emil about that, not even if the war weren't an issue.

 

Mathias is forbidden from leaving the apartment. He's essentially under house arrest until he can make some progress with the books. He spends the next few days translating and shaking Lukas out of his mind. For a while, the plan works. There's hardly any room in his head for Lukas at all. It's the little things that matter, however. The scent of coffee, the sound of violins, even the mention of the fair folk in one of the books is enough to cause him pain.

Why did he have to realize he loves Lukas now? Why couldn't he have done it a hundred years ago, when it would have mattered?

His head starts to spin from all the ancient lettering. His hand cramps. He drinks coffee, even though he doesn't really like it that much and it, of course, reminds him of Lukas. Lovino hovers around the door sometimes to check on his progress.

Observing the brothers becomes a little game for him. Feliciano is always going somewhere. Lovino stays behind, although it's clear he doesn't like it. Sometimes Feliciano comes back late in the evening, sparking a one sided shouting match. Mathias is more than a little jealous. _I leave the apartment once without saying where I'm going and now I'm stuck here, but he gets away with it?_

The defenses on the apartment really are top notch. Mathias inspects them one morning out of curiosity. He's never seen a place so protected. It makes him wonder who the Vargas brothers really are. They seem important.

But at the same time, they snap at each other and cook and Feliciano is an airhead. Then again, Mathias isn't exactly a paragon of intelligence, but there's a lot riding on him. He just doesn't get it. Eventually, he figures he might as well hold his questions, seeing as he has to work double time on the translations, now that the enemy has a book of their own.

There's a whole chapter in one tome dedicated to the summoning of fair folk, which doesn't help them at all. No one on their side can communicate with, let alone see, fairies. Mathias decides to skip it, since it will only make him think of Lukas.

Lukas had told Mathias that he'd always been able to see strange things, even before their powers awakened. Mathias didn't believe him at first. He could believe in shooting fire from his hands, but not in fairies and trolls. Maybe that was why Lukas had chosen his side.

Mathias half wishes Feliciano hadn't healed him. Then he would have something more tangible to remember Lukas by. The physical pain has stopped, but the emotional pain is never ending. Why couldn't there be a healer for that?

 

“I still don't understand why you came back to the mainland.”

“There were things I wanted to do here. I couldn’t stay in Iceland forever. Besides, if you needed me, you would have had to take a boat or a plane. This way, it’s easier to find me.”

Lukas shakes his head. “It’s also easier for the enemy to find you.”

“I protect myself, Lukas,” Emil insists, placing his empty mug on the coffee table with an audible clink. “I may be your younger brother, but I’m a mage too. You don’t need to hover over me anymore.”

Even though it’s been true for years, the sting hasn’t faded. Lukas pretends to see something interesting in a magazine and dog ears the page. Emil can’t know how much Lukas protects him. He would consider it an insult. He also can’t know how many times Lukas has had to fend off his own side, to keep them from recruiting his brother.

“Enough about me,” Emil declares, folding his arms. “I want to know what you said to Mathias.”

“I said nothing.”

“Liar.” Lukas looks up.

Emil’s face is like stone. He won’t be deterred. Lukas should have known better. He should have expected Emil to retain some attachment to the man they met in Copenhagen. And for him to remember.

“I know you chose different sides,” Emil said. “That doesn’t change the past. Mathias treated us like family. We spent some of the best years of our lives with him. I don’t believe you when you say nothing of interest happened. You felt something. Everyone can joke about how you never let anyone get inside your head, but I can read you like a book. Admit it. Resentment, regret, whatever. Something.”

Lukas is afraid of what will happen if he lets the words out into the open, if they leave that pool of light beneath the street lamp, if they escape from the hotel room. Anyone could be listening. Anyone could be waiting to twist Lukas’s arm, to use his weakness to get something from him. He could be marked as a traitor if anyone finds out.

“I can’t tell you, Emil. You don’t want to know what goes on in the war.”

Emil’s face flushes. “Fine. Keep it to yourself then. Don’t blame me for trying to help.”

Lukas opens up a perfume sample and smells it. Chanel. Fancy and spicy and nothing like musty scent of his own clothes. He needs a shower.

“I’m going to use your bathroom,” he says, standing up.

“Help yourself. It’s just down the hall.”

Emil is angry with him now. How childish. It won’t make Lukas confess. He follows the direction Emil points and shuts the door behind him a little harder than he means to. He doesn’t like being harsh with his brother. They used to be so close. What happened?

Same thing that happened to every other relationship he’s ever had: the war.

It takes him a minute to figure out the handles in Emil’s shower. He sighs as the warm water hits his shoulders. He takes his sweet time getting clean, savoring the feeling of soap. As he rinses, he looks down at his body. There are too many scars to count, each with a story he’s forgotten. How many has Mathias given him?

Lukas places his forehead against the wall. The ache in his chest just won’t go away. He shuts his eyes and pictures Mathias, freed of his bulky coat, his shirt, and slick with water from a midnight swim, one that had stirred something in the both of them that they hadn’t vocalized. Yes, he liked the way Mathias swam, parting the shining water with ease, like a mermaid.

He twists the cold handle viciously. It wakes him up just enough to hear Emil knock.

“What?” Lukas calls, turning off the shower.

“I’ve got some stuff you can borrow. I’ll just leave it out here.”

Lukas reaches for a towel. “Thank you.”

They will forgive each other in the morning. They always forgive each other. Lukas doesn’t see Emil often enough to hold a grudge against him. After a good night’s sleep, Lukas will apologize, Emil will apologize back. Lukas will stay for a few more days, then move on. He wishes he could stay forever.

 

It is not a sound that wakes Mathias but the absence of it. He opens his eyes and glances around the darkened room. No tires running on the street, no creaking floorboards, no air conditioning humming along. Nothing.

He sits up and gets out of bed. His movement makes noise, but there’s nothing else, like the world suddenly hit pause. The clock says it’s 3 AM. Great. For once, he went to bed early, and here he is, awake again.

He checks the desk. Everything is as it was. They haven’t been tampered with. Yet the strange silence is more than a little worrisome. Mathias opens the door a crack and peers into the hallway. It’s dark and both bedroom doors are closed. If the brothers aren’t awake, then they must be heavier sleepers than he thought.

Mathias creeps down the hall. His footsteps sound so loud, even in bare feet. He tries to expand himself, to reach out and touch the edges of the silence. Yes, there is a boundary that begins at the front door and ends at the far side of the apartment, carefully avoiding the brothers’ rooms. He frowns.

This isn’t a natural silence. It was formed, but by whom? The enemy? Lovino assured him that this place was safe. No one can find it. Mathias is inclined to believe him. It must be one of their own. Why the barrier, then? This doesn’t make sense. Unless…

Mathias braces himself as he enters the living room. There’s a tall man sitting in one of the armchairs, reading something on his phone. The light of the screen is harsh on his face, turning his glasses into two spots of white. They flash upward as Mathias approaches.

“What the hell, Berwald?” he demands.

Berwald shrugs. Of course. If Berwald can gesture, he won’t bother talking. Annoying as always. Mathias scrubs his fingers through his hair. It’s greasy. He’s been working without showers for the past couple days.

“How did you get in?”

“Door was open.”

Like hell it was. The brothers lock it religiously. Mathias has seen the ceremony often enough. Not even Feliciano is so careless.

“How did you even know I was here?” Mathias says, taking a seat on the other free chair.

Again, a shrug. Mathias doesn’t have to ask. It was Tino. Tino tells his boyfriend everything, and because Tino knows everything about everyone, Berwald does too. Mathias grinds his teeth together.

“So what are you here for?”

The Swede turns off the phone screen and they’re plunged into darkness. “You lost a book. And we know who took it.”

Mathias is glad it’s dark, because the blood has just drained from his face. “Really? Because even I don’t know who took it from me.”

“Lukas.”

To hear his name from another’s mouth is more startling than Berwald appearing in the apartment. For the past few days, Lukas has been Mathias’s secret. Sometimes it feels like their meeting was imagined. He feels exposed.

“I haven’t seen Lukas in ages,” Mathias lies with a wave of his hand. “Why do you bring him up?”

“I saw ‘im. Ran away from me in England.”

“What happened?”

No answer. Mathias forgot how annoying this could be. Finally, Berwald speaks again. “Tino tracked ‘im. Still had his glove.”

Mathias’s heart clenches. He can’t breathe. The walls are closing in and as they creep closer, the urge to leap out of his chair and strangle Berwald grows.

“We know he came here. Where you are.”

“I didn’t see him.”

“Right after you lost the book, he moved on to Finland,” Berwald says evenly. “Everyone else forgets. I remember. You two…”

“Shut up.” Mathias jumps up. “You don’t know anything. You left! And then you come crawling back to be with Tino. I don’t forget either, _ven_.”

Though he can’t really see Berwald’s face, he senses the other man’s anger building. Mathias considers tearing down the silence field. If he had the brothers on his side, then Berwald could be sent packing. But they would want to know what he came for and then…

“He has the book,” Berwald says. “Whether or not you saw ‘im.”

Mathias breathes out, slowly, attempting to release his own anger. The silence field would allow him to physically throw Berwald out, but a fight would disturb the room, especially if fire got involved (and with Mathias, it somehow always did).

“We need it back.”

“I have more books,” Mathias says, his heart growing cold.

“We’re at war.”

_We’ve been at war too long_. Mathias hates this, hates Berwald, hates his own emotions for betraying him. “He probably doesn’t have it anymore. He can’t translate.”

“How do you know?”

He doesn’t. Lukas could have learned. It’s possible.

“We’ll retrieve it,” Berwald says, standing up. “If he doesn’t…”

Mathias fumbles through the dark for Berwald’s collar, finds it and jerks him forward. “If you lay a single finger on him, I’ll – “

Berwald frees himself. “No. I won’t hurt ‘im. Not if I don’t have to.”

He sounds sincere. If he’s telling the truth, it’s not because of Mathias.

Neither of them forgets.

 

Emil’s couch is soft. Lukas doesn’t want to get up when he hears the phone ringing in the kitchen. He peers out from beneath the afghan. Emil isn’t up yet. Lukas decides to let it ring. If it’s important, the caller will leave a message.

And suddenly it stops. Lukas is still. The heater was running a moment earlier. Now it’s silent as the grave. His lungs constrict. He sits bolt upright, throwing off the blankets he piled on himself last night. The floor is cold.

“Emil!” he calls, his voice sounding louder than it’s ever been. “Emil!”

No answer. His brother can’t hear him. The door bangs open, the broken lock clattering uselessly against the wood. Lukas whirls around, firing a bolt of magic. The shot is deflected, flinging it against a poster, which falls off the wall. Cold air rushes into the room.

“Lukas,” says one voice.

“Bondevik,” says the other.

He’s shaking, shaking. Another shot of magic. Another deflection, this time onto the coffee table. Glass shatters, scattering in every direction. Lukas throws up his arms to protect himself. A few shards strike his skin. He’s too panicked to use a magical shield.

_This isn’t happening_.

It’s a nightmare brought to life: Tino and Berwald at the door, striding into his brother’s apartment, bringing the war into the one safe place he had left.

Tino’s boots crunch on the glass. “Lukas,” he says, extending a hand. “We didn’t come to hurt you.”

“Then what for? How did you find me?”

Tino pauses, sharing a glance with Berwald.

“ _How did you find me?_ ” Lukas repeats, harsher this time.

“That’s not important,” Tino explains. “We want to know where the book is.”

“I don’t have it! I handed it off! _La meg være alene!_ ” He can hardly keep up with Tino’s Finnish when he’s this stressed. It’s not helping him calm down.

“Where is it now?”

“Find it yourself,” Lukas growls.

Berwald moves closer.

“Stay away!”

“Not going to hurt you,” Berwald says, looking around the room. Then, his gaze settles on the hall behind Lukas. “Emil.”

Lukas springs forward, jabbing the point of his elbow into Berwald’s stomach. Tino somehow springs behind him, grabbing the back of his shirt and forcing him to the ground. The force of his magic nearly squeezes the breath out of Lukas.

He screams for Emil. He hears Berwald’s heavy footsteps leave the field. Lukas struggles and squirms, jamming his own power against Tino’s. Every time he feels a break, Tino rushes to cover it and he can hardly do anything because his heart is screaming for Emil and he wishes – for once – that there were someone here to rescue him.

Berwald returns, Emil’s limp body thrown over one shoulder. Lukas shouts every curse he knows, even the ones in the old language. Several mugs break in the kitchen. The water turns on. The cupboards bang open and shut. Tino keeps him down, but he can’t last for much longer.

“Until we get the book back,” Tino says, following Berwald to the door, “Emil stays with us.”

The pressure lifts. Lukas scrambles to his feet. He’s not quick enough to stop them. They’re gone as he blinks, missing his attack. It strikes the door so hard it leaves a mark.

His feet are bleeding from the glass. The place is a mess. Emil’s home. Lukas sinks to the floor. He can’t stop the tears because they’re already flowing, trickling down his chin. He sobs, tucking his face into the collar of his t-shirt, cursing himself and Mathias, hating Berwald and Tino and himself.

There is nothing more the war can take from him, because it has already taken everything.


	7. Chapter 7

“Feli, get the door!”

“I’m busy!”

“You’re not busy,” Lovino says, waving a fork at his brother’s head. “You’re trying to balance a spoon on your nose. It makes you look like an idiot.”

Feliciano shares a sad glance with Mathias and removes the spoon. “Then I’ll answer the door,” he says cheerfully, skipping to it. “I hope it’s not a solicitor.”

“You can’t lay down a spell to get rid of them?” Mathias asks. He’s reclining on the couch, reading for pleasure and attempting to learn Italian. So far, they’ve been getting by with English, but he would like to know what the brothers talk about when they slip into their native language.

Lovino shrugs. “Why bother? It takes enough energy to keep the wards fresh.”

“Hello?” Feliciano says, opening the door. He gasps sharply, hopping back.

Lovino is at his side in a second, pointing an enormous knife at the door. As Mathias bounds off the couch, he sees Feliciano tug his brother’s hand down, stammering something urgent in Italian. And in the doorway…

“Hello,” Tino says. “We’re sorry to intrude.”

“You could have warned us you were coming,” Lovino grumbles. “What the hell did you do?”

Mathias struggles to look past the twins. Berwald is carrying someone on his shoulder like a sack. His heart pounds. _Lukas?_

The brothers step aside to allow Berwald and Tino into the apartment. Berwald sets his load down on the couch. It’s not Lukas. It’s Emil.

The whole room turns red. Mathias’s heart is no longer pounding from fear, but from rage. He wants to run the blade of his ax straight through Berwald, ally or no. Emil doesn’t appear to be hurt, but he’s out cold and wearing only pajama pants and an old t-shirt. In any case, Emil shouldn’t even be here. Emil was never supposed to get involved.

“You bastards,” Mathias says, clenching his fists. “What were you thinking?”

Tino flinches. Berwald gazes off into the kitchen. Even the twins are disturbed. Feliciano leans over the couch, a hand hovering above Emil’s forehead. He looks at Mathias, confusion swimming in his amber eyes.

“Lukas took the book. If he can return it, then we’ll return Emil,” Tino says.

“And if he can’t get it back to you?”

“We’re not going to hurt him,” Tino says, his hand pressed to his heart. “Emil is our friend too.”

“He _was_ our friend,” Mathias corrects. “Lukas was trying to keep him out of the war. He’s going to kill you.”

Tino shakes his head. “I know it’s unpleasant, but we can’t let them keep that book. You, of all people, have to understand.”

“Lukas?” Feliciano suddenly says. “Who’s Lukas?”

Mathias finds the point of Lovino’s knife just under his chin. The elder Vargas stares at him, trying to find cracks in Mathias’s shield. “I’d like to know, too,” he says. “You said you couldn’t tell who stole the book from you.”

“I don’t know,” Mathias insists. “They think it was Lukas.” He points at Berwald and Tino, for good measure. “And hey, maybe they’re right, but that doesn’t mean they can kidnap his younger brother. Emil isn’t even part of the war.”

The knife doesn’t move. “How do you know Lukas?”

“He was our friend before the war,” Tino explains. “We ended up choosing different sides.”

Lovino’s eyes narrow. They travel to Berwald, then back. He lowers his voice so that only Mathias can hear before he asks, “Not thinking of becoming a turncoat, are you?”

“It’s not like that,” Mathias says. It’s half true and half false. “We were just friends. I haven’t seen him in years.”

Lovino lowers the knife. “Well, we’ve got the kid now,” he says, nodding at Emil. “What should we do with him?”

“This is the safest place possible,” Tino says. “Keep him here until we get word from Lukas.”

“We’ve only got one guest room,” Lovino says.

“He can stay on the couch,” Feliciano suggests, brushing Emil’s bangs off his forehead. “We’ll take good care of him. He’ll be safe here.” He looks at Mathias when he says this.

“He should wake up in another hour,” Tino explains, kneeling beside the couch. At least he has the sense to look guilty. Mathias doesn’t want to start hating the Finn as well. It would be too much to bear. Still, he can’t reconcile this.

“And Lukas knows you took him?” he asks, directing the question at Berwald.

The Swede nods, not making eye contact. “He was there.”

Mathias feels another chill coming on. He knows that Lukas would never let them just walk out with his brother. “What did you do?”

“We didn’t hurt him either.” Tino is quick to defend. “Not really.”

It appears Berwald was true to his word. “Not really” is bothersome, though. What does “not really” mean to Tino? He’s never understood how Berwald and Tino function, as a pair. While Tino is a kind person, the type to adopt stray dogs and children on a whim, it doesn’t mean he’s incapable of the nastier work. Mathias has known him for a very long time.

It’s strange, watching Emil sleep, Berwald and Tino hovering over him like that. They were family once. They had promised to stay together, but they splintered. Now it’s just Mathias, with a head full of memories he can’t stand, a heart that remains fixated on the one person he can’t have, and no place to call his own.

They are incomplete. Lukas should be here. They should be smiling.

 

“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lukas?”

Mathias was full of these questions. He would just lie on the floor, his hands behind his head, and throw out hypotheticals and “what ifs” as though Lukas actually cared about responding to any of them. It was his habit to ignore the young Dane when he got like this, but his newest question made Lukas pause.

Marriage? Mathias tended to float romantically, investing all his time and energy into one girl until she finally rejected him, leading to weeks of moping before discovering a new passion on which to fixate. Lukas couldn’t imagine him marrying anyone. Not that Mathias would never be able to commit – he always was – but no girl would have him for longer than a month.

As for Lukas… He’d never had time for anyone. He was too busy looking after his brother and Mathias. What sort of girl would he marry anyway? Another mage, one who would match his lifespan?

“No,” he said, finally. “I don’t think I will.”

“Do you think you’ll ever fall in love?”

Lukas shook his head. He had a strange feeling in his spine. He and Mathias were alone in their flat. Yet it felt like they were being observed, and very closely at that. Lukas got up and went to the window. He peered out from between the curtains.

“Why not?” Mathias whined, sitting up. “It’s amazing.”

“Doesn’t seem worth the effort,” Lukas answered. There was no one on the street. What was he feeling? He closed his eyes. Vision could be deceiving. The sixth sense never lied.

“Not worth the effort?” Mathias cried, getting to his feet.

Lukas sighed. “Every time you ‘fall in love’ you end up rejected. How is that amazing?”

Mathias was silent for a few minutes. Lukas tried to ignore the sound of him pacing. There was something lurking nearby. If only he could reach it.

A weight appeared on his shoulder. Lukas’s eyes snapped open. Mathias had crept up behind him, his arms draped around Lukas, his head nestled against Lukas’s neck. The Norwegian swallowed. Mathias smelled strongly of smoke. He’d been hanging around that bar again, but not drinking. Why? Lukas felt his pulse quicken as Mathias leaned into him.

“You know the story of The Little Mermaid, right?”

“Yes.” Mathias always drank. Everywhere. Even in the middle of the day, if he could get away with it. What had he been doing in that bar if he hadn’t been drinking?

“She pined and pined after that prince, traded her tail for feet that hurt her every time she stepped, and refused to kill her beloved, even when it could have saved her.” Mathias’s voice was dreamy and soft, his hair tickling Lukas’s jaw. “In the end, she died. Turned to sea foam. Do you know why?”

Lukas shook his head. Honestly, he’d never understood that story. Why would the mermaid continue loving the prince when he offered nothing in return? What was the point of an ending like that?

“Because it felt so good just to be in love. That’s why.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense,” Lukas said. “She should have realized it was a lost cause.”

“Oh, she did, but you can’t just stop. We might fall in love with the wrong people at the wrong time, but the feeling of it… you’ll understand one day, Lukas.”

“You’re nothing but a hopeless romantic. Your only examples come from stories.” Lukas ducked out from beneath Mathias’s arms.

Mathias just laughed. “Fiction has a lot to teach us, Lukas. Oh! Can you ask the mermaids if they know the story?”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Idiot,” he muttered under his breath. But he was afraid. Something told him that his time with Mathias was running out. Someone or something would divide them, and carry Mathias away.

 

There are mermaids in the bay. Lukas hears them singing. He draws closer to the dark waters, careful not to listen to the words of their song, lest they draw him under. In his current state, the desire to jump in is strong. He resists.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “I hear you.”

The singing pauses. Then a head rises from the bay, and another and another. Lukas can only see their eyes at first, but soon their shoulders are out of the water, glistening in the evening light. He sits down, hands in his pockets. The cold is worse than usual tonight.

“You,” the closest mermaid says. Her hair is tangled with seaweed and little white shells. “I remember you. Your eyes are older than your looks, boy.” Lukas can’t remember any of the mermaids he used to speak with. They’re a last resort, when summoning a fairy is too much. That they remember him is not so surprising. There are few in this world who can hear them anymore.

“I need a favor,” he says.

“You will have to pay. We aren’t your servants,” the mermaid says. Her voice is lovely, but hisses on certain words. She smiles, revealing rows of pointed teeth. Lukas remembers all the illustrations of The Little Mermaid, as well as the film that children love so much, and how she never, ever looked like this.

“What do you want?” He’s tired. He’s desperate. He can’t trust mermaids, but they might be the only ones that can help him.

The mermaid tilts her head this way and that, thinking. Her friends are all whispering. Some of them are young. They have probably never spoken with a human before. Lukas is a novelty to them. They draw slowly closer, cautious but intrigued. If Lukas isn’t careful, they’ll want him forever. He stays a good distance from the water.

“Music,” the lead mermaid finally says. “The kind you used to play for us in the old days.”

The violin. Lukas tries not to show his relief. They could have requested his blood, his firstborn son, anything. Yet all they wanted was music. That should be easy to deliver. He told Mathias that he still played, but only for himself. Never for an audience.

Well, that’s not necessarily true. For Emil, he would, if he was asked. Something happy. Something that would make his brother tap his foot in time.

For Emil.

He opens his violin case, tightens the bow and runs it across the rosin. He fits in under his chin. This is not the same instrument that he played for Mathias. That one grew old and out of tune, eventually falling to pieces. He plucks a string, experimentally.

Mathias must have told. Otherwise, no one would have known it was him. Berwald carried off his brother. Tino held Lukas down while he did it. And Mathias – _oh, Mathias_ – betrayed him. Everyone betrayed him.

He plays for the mermaids, something energetic, so as to disguise his fatigue. They are silent; the only sounds are that of distant, passing cars and waves lapping at concrete. The music soars into the night and is swallowed up by the sea.

And as Lukas saws at the strings, he knows that he will have to see Mathias again and he will hurt him as Mathias has hurt him. He is not like The Little Mermaid, martyred for her love. He is Lukas Bondevik. He loves Mathias Køhler, more than he thought he ever could, and he knew all along that Mathias’s love was shallow, because if Mathias really loved him, he would have stayed at his side, wouldn’t have been seduced by the enemy, wouldn’t have let them take Emil.

Before he knows it, his eyes are wet again and the song is over. He lowers the violin, head tilted back to hide his tears.

The mermaid says, “You play beautifully as ever.”

“I was taught by a _nøkk_.”

She sighs. “And yet you look down on us. Such a shame, such a shame. What do you ask of us, boy?”

“I need a weapon. Anything.”

The mermaid grins. “Easy,” she says, turning to her comrades. She hisses something at them and a few plunge back into the bay. They come up again, moments later, holding a knife. It shines silver in their hands.

The first mermaid takes it from them, then swims closer to where Lukas stands. She holds it up to him, still grinning.

Lukas doesn’t move. “Toss it up,” he says.

Her grin diminishes. Lukas knows better than to get within her reach. She tosses the knife up and he catches it. It’s lighter than he imagined. He tucks it into his belt, beneath his jacket. It’s not Mathias’s axe, but it will serve him well.

“We see into you, boy,” the mermaid taunts as he gathers the violin case. “We know you want revenge. They’ve stolen from you, but you stole from them first. An eye for an eye.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“We’ve heard your silly human stories,” she continues. “His blood won’t return what you’ve lost, boy.” Lukas hurries away, but her voice follows him. “Foolish, foolish humans. You gave it to him, little one!”

Her laughter rings in his ears as their song starts again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nøkk is a Norwegian water spirit, a kind of male nymph that lures women and children into the water with beautiful violin music. It's said that, under the right circumstances, they are willing to teach a human how to play.   
> And, of course, it wouldn't be DenNor without some sort of reference to The Little Mermaid (nervous laughter). It might be totally cliche, but I'm not sick of it yet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while. I'm sorry for the long wait. There might be another while I write the next couple of chapters, but I'm home from school and will hopefully have more time.

In Emil’s dream, they’re climbing trees. Lukas thinks they’re too old for it, so he doesn’t want to join Emil as he scrabbles up the trunk, scraping the soles of his boots against its bark. For once, the weather is warm. The last few days it’s done nothing but rain and sleet. They’ve been cooped up in their rooms with nothing to do.

Emil sits on one of the lower branches and watches Lukas. His brother has gotten more boring in the past couple years. He says it’s because he’s eighteen, technically a man now. Emil doesn’t think that two years can create that big of a difference. He swings his legs as Lukas paces beneath the tree.

“You’re sixteen now,” Lukas calls up. “You should be over this sort of thing by now.”

Emil shakes his head. He’ll never not want to climb, to be closer to the sky. Lukas will never understand because he’s like an escape artist that never wants to escape. He loads himself down with chains and intends to wear them to the grave.

“If you fall, I can’t catch you. You’re too big.”

Emil doesn’t worry about falling. He’s too warm and happy for falling. Besides, he knows that even if Lukas _can’t_ catch him, he’ll leap forward anyway. For all his protests about Emil being grown up and needing to act like it, Lukas will forever treat him as the younger brother, someone to be protected. Some days, this annoys Emil. Other days, it can be the only reminder that Lukas loves him.

 

Mathias watches Emil sleep. As peaceful as he looks, Mathias is disturbed. Feliciano put a blanket over the young man and adjusted his pillow, as if he’d simply come down with a cold. He also convinced Lovino to set aside some food for Emil once he wakes.

“He’ll be hungry,” Feliciano said. “I’m always hungry after a nap.”

“It’s a not a nap!” Mathias snapped, unable to bear it any longer. He also hadn’t been able to bear the brothers staring at him like that, so he retreated into his room to work. It didn’t help.

So here he was again, kneeling beside the couch. At least Emil will have a familiar face to wake up to. Mathias prepares countless apologies in his head, none of which sound sincere enough. He doesn’t know why he feels so guilty. After all, it wasn’t him that forcibly kidnapped Emil.

He should have stopped Berwald. He should have lied and named someone else. He should have done anything but passively allow Tino and Berwald to hurt Lukas like this, because now they were all marked for death. Lukas will kill them all, regardless of their past, regardless of how Mathias feels about him. This robbery is the most unforgivable act they could have committed.

 _It’s not worth it. Not for a book_.

He’s glad that the pair have moved on. Neither of them particularly like him – they’ve made that uncomfortably clear – and Mathias, despite everything, can’t forgive them either. He may have seen them as his brothers once, but Lukas has always been the nearest to his heart. He and Emil come first.

“What’s the story?” Feliciano asks as he checks Emil for wounds. So far there are none. It appears they were telling the truth.

“There isn’t one, really,” Mathias says. He takes Emil’s hand. It’s cold. He tucks it beneath the blanket. “Lukas and I met before the war. It turned out he had different plans than I did, so we became enemies. We’re probably not the only ones.”

“Probably.” Feliciano noticeably sags. “That’s so sad. I don’t know what I’d do if…” He trails off and his fingers flutter at his pocket for a moment. “Um, anyway.” He’s back to smiles and brightness again. “When was the last time you saw your Lukas?”

Mathias coughs. “He’s not _my_ Lukas,” he says quickly, although it sounds sweet to his ears. “It was a long time ago, during a battle. He nearly killed me.”

“Do you still think about him sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” Mathias admits. Truthfully, he thinks of Lukas all the time now.

“You should probably stop.” It’s Lovino. He’s still holding the knife, the point on the counter, spinning it this way and that. It might be a veiled threat and it might be nothing more than an occupation for his hands. Mathias never can tell which. “He’s not your friend anymore and your focus should be on the books. There’s no time to get sappy.”

“Lovi, you’re so blunt,” Feliciano says, getting to his feet. “You can’t just stop caring about someone.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“Why not? I did.”

Feliciano suddenly laughs. “ _Sei un bugiardo_ , Lovi.”

There’s something suggestive in the way he says it. Mathias’s suspicions are confirmed when Lovino turns red and snaps, “Shut up! I’m always honest.”

Feliciano rolls his eyes but doesn’t push it any further. Mathias doesn’t fully understand, but he chuckles to himself anyway. He looks back down at Emil, who shows no signs of stirring yet. However, there’s a tiny smile on his face. Mathias sighs. At least he’s having pleasant dreams.

 

Lukas hates traveling this way, even if it is convenient. He’s never been very good at teleportation that didn’t involve clear portals at point A and point B. This method is messier, less certain, and far more tiring. He’s running on two cups of black coffee and adrenaline.

He can only go in short bursts, hopping from a random field in Germany to a riverside in France. In Switzerland, he appears in someone’s rose garden and discovers that he can’t force himself to take the next bound yet.

Lukas sinks to the ground. The bottoms of his shoes and the edges of his jeans are covered in mud. His ungloved fingers are freezing. All that translocation makes him sick and he fights the urge to vomit into a rosebush. Despite the pounding headache and nausea, the first pangs of hunger are starting to hit. He tries to ignore them. There are more important things than food.

At least he hasn’t landed in the middle of a road or on top of a mountain. His aim is terrible, something Mathias always teased him about, so he’s gotten lucky with the garden.

 _The roses shouldn’t be blooming_ , he thinks, but they are. They’re beautiful, a myriad of different colors. The ones he’s hunched by at present are a soft pink and flecked with bits of dew so that they sparkle like diamonds. Lukas is generally unsentimental, but he can appreciate beauty when he sees it.

It’s as he’s running a finger across a satiny petal that he hears a loud click, one that can only come from the safety being released on a gun.

“ _Wer bist du_?"

Lukas really should have learned German. He’s had plenty of opportunity to do so. He doesn’t move, wondering if he should try English and hope for the best.

The owner of the gun, realizing that he probably isn’t being understood, tries, “ _Qui est-vous_?”

Thank God he knows some French at least. “Lukas Bondevik,” Lukas replies, seeing no reason to lie. “I’m not a burglar.”

“But you are a trespasser,” the man with the gun says. “Stand up and turn around. If you try anything, I’ll shoot.”

Lukas does as he’s told. No one has held a gun on him in years. It’s a strange feeling. He’s surprised to see that the person who’s caught him is rather young, though not a child by any means.

“Weapons?” the man asks.

Lukas thinks of the knife under his coat. “None that I plan to use on you.”

“Really.” The man keeps the gun pointed at him. “Show me.”

Lukas takes out the knife and holds it up for the man to see. Against a gun, it would be very inefficient, unless Lukas decided to tip the odds magically. However, it doesn’t seem necessary. He’d rather not get sidetracked fighting some outsider over a stupid misunderstanding.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” the man says. “You got that from the sea, didn’t you?”

Though he doesn’t show it, Lukas is startled. He didn’t sense any magic when he appeared in the garden and any mage worth his salt would put up defenses. How he got past them is a mystery. Unless he didn’t, which would explain for the young man’s swift appearance.

“It’s my own business,” Lukas says, replacing the knife in his belt. He needs to determine whether this person is friend or foe and quickly, before he gets shot. He doesn’t know everyone on his side and they don’t all know him, so there’s a good chance that this young man is an ally that he just hasn’t met yet. On the other hand, they could be enemies that never crossed paths until this moment.

“Then why are you here? I have a right to know why you suddenly appeared on my property,” the young man growls.

“I’m passing through.”

Not convincing enough. The young man’s eyes narrow.

“There’s something I need to do farther south. It doesn’t concern you. I didn’t choose to stop here.” Lukas knows that he doesn’t have enough energy to fight and not nearly enough to escape the area’s defenses. He can feel them now, buzzing around the outside walls. If he were to try teleporting out, they would catch him like a net and send him back to where he’d started. There might be enough strength left in him to deflect a bullet, but what then?

“ _Bruder_!”

Both their heads turn to see a girl hanging out of a second story window. She’s backlit, and too far away for Lukas to make out any details, but she sounds young as well.

The man calls something back to her in German and she responds. Though Lukas can’t understand what she’s saying, her tone is slightly exasperated and mostly pleading. The young man is clearly frustrated and, judging by his blush, embarrassed.

While they talk, Lukas studies the house. He can’t move – the gun is still pointed at him – but he can see the top half from where he stands. It’s not very big, but it’s nicer than anything he’s ever owned, including the rooms he shared with Mathias in Copenhagen. Lights glow from every window, reminding Lukas painfully of his first home, the one he hasn’t seen in over a hundred years.

The girl appears finished; she ducks back inside, shutting the window after her. The young man sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Inside,” he orders.

The girl is waiting at the door, half hiding behind it.

“ _Guten Abend_ ,” she says in the softest voice Lukas has ever heard. He’s surprised, considering how she first made herself known.

“ _Er spricht kein Deutsch_ , Lilli,” the man says, nodding for Lukas to enter the house first.

“Um… English?” The girl peers up at Lukas through her fringe, gently moving out of his way.

“English is good,” Lukas agrees. She seems relieved. The girl turns on her heel and begins walking down the hall, gesturing for him to follow. She and the young man look so alike that Lukas thinks they must be related. Brother and sister, maybe?

The girl (Lilli?) brings him into a small kitchen and pulls out a chair. Lukas glances at the man, unsure of whether he’s actually allowed to sit. To his relief, the gun has been put away. He sits. Once there, he realizes just how exhausted he is.

“Alright,” the young man says in slightly accented English, “Who are you with?”

Lukas looks between the pair for a moment. He still doesn’t know what will kill him and what will save him. He doesn’t see the gun, but it must be somewhere close. Besides, there’s magic to worry about.

“Ignore him,” Lilli says, putting a hand on the man’s arm. “It doesn’t matter who you’re with. Not to us.”

Lukas blinks. “You mean… you’re not on a side?”

“We’re not part of the war,” the young man says with a huff. “So I guess it doesn’t really matter which side you’re on.”

Lukas has heard tell of neutrals, but never a specific case. He’s always thought they were a story, made to give false hope. The war is everywhere, but not here. Not in this little blue and yellow kitchen.

Emil was neutral, technically. But Lukas has failed him.

“I’m Lilli. This is Vash.” Lilli gestures at her angry companion. “My brother.”

So he was right. Vash rakes his fingers through his blond hair, scowling off into the distance. It probably unnerves him, having someone involved with the war in his kitchen.

“I’m sorry he pointed a gun at you,” Lilli continues. “He was only trying to protect our home. It would be trouble if anyone found us.” She twists the end of her ribbon. “We’ve already had to move.”

“But how?” Lukas asks, unable to hold back his questions. “Why?”

“They make you think you’ve got two options,” Vash says, pulling out a chair. He sits, placing his elbows on the table and cracking his knuckles, like he’s about to throw a punch. “You have three. You join one side, you join the other, or you get out. I got out and I took Lilli with me.”

“You can’t just ‘get out’.”

“No, you can’t _just_ do anything. It wasn’t easy.”

Lilli puts her hands on her brother’s shoulders. She nods sadly, her head bowed. Lukas’s heart twists bitterly. Why? Why has Vash so far succeeded where Lukas failed? Is it because Lukas chose to fight?

“Eventually, they got tired of trying to track us down and let us be,” Vash says. “It took a long time, but we haven’t been bothered since. Until you came crashing into our backyard.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“No, of course not,” Lilli says, waving a hand. “You couldn’t have. No one knows we’re here. That’s what I was trying to tell you, _bruder_.”

“As far as we know. They could have found us again.”

“If he had come to hurt us, he would have by now. Right?” She lifts her soft green eyes to Lukas. If her brother is a guard dog, then Lilli is a lamb: gentle and sweet.

“Like I said,” Lukas explains, “I’m only passing through. Once I’ve recovered enough magic, I’ll move on.”

“You swear on your life?” Vash demands.

“I swear. I have business with someone else.” He remembers the knife, the mermaids taunting him, Mathias’s arm around him as they slept.

“Then let us help,” Lilli offers, releasing her brother. “Do you need something to eat? Something to drink?”

Lukas wants to refuse, but his stomach answers before his words reach the air. He lowers his gaze to the table and says quietly, “Coffee, please. If you have it.”

 

It is late at night when Emil comes to, after the twins have gone to bed. Mathias hasn’t moved from his spot. He holds his breath as Emil stirs, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Slowly, Emil’s eyes open – intensely violet, just as Mathias remembers them – and he takes in his surroundings.

“Mathias,” he says in a half whisper. His expression changes. “Mathias.”

Mathias shushes him. “How are you feeling?”

“I haven’t seen you in –“

“I know. I know.” He cringes as the guilt floods back into him. Emil’s voice hasn’t changed much either. “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean for it to happen. Berwald’s crazy.”

“Berwald…” Emil says dreamily, eyes floating up to the ceiling. He tries to sit up. Mathias helps him, adjusting the pillows. “I remember seeing him come into the room. Then…” He trails off. “This isn’t my house.”

Mathias looks away. “This is my fault. I should have stopped Berwald.”

“Where’s Lukas?” Mathias doesn’t answer.

“Where’s my brother?” Emil repeats.

“I don’t know,” Mathias finally manages, rubbing his eyes. He’s so tired, but he can’t sleep now, not while Emil’s awake. “They said they didn’t hurt him. I haven’t seen Lukas since he took the book from me.”

Emil sits back. He stares at the wall for a few minutes. “So I’m a prisoner now. Is that it?”

“Technically. I’m not going to treat you like one. You’ve always felt like my little brother, too, you know?”

“I know.” Emil picks at his blanket. “You’re as much my family as Lukas is. Which is why I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’re here, working against him.”

Mathias swallows. How is he supposed to explain? He cards his fingers through his hair. He’s forgotten to gel it again. “I chose this a long time ago,” he whispers. “It was chance.”

“What? Did you flip a coin and decide to betray us?”

“No, nothing like that!” He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice even further. “I loved Lukas and I still do. We just… took different paths.”

Emil goes quiet. Eventually, he whispers, “If you loved him, why didn’t you defect? Berwald chose Tino over the war.”

Mathias cringes again. He wanted to see Emil so badly, but now he’s starting to regret it. Of course Lukas’s brother would hold a little resentment for him as well.

“I didn’t know I loved him like that yet,” he says. “I didn’t know until recently.”

“Recently. As in, when you last saw each other?”

“Yeah.”

Emil shakes his head. “That liar.”

“Did you talk about me?” Mathias perks up.

“A little. Lukas didn’t want to say anything about it. He never tells me anything. It’s supposed to keep me safe. But now look where I am,” he says, choking. “I know what this is. You’re using me to get to him. I’m just your tool.”

“That’s not how it is. I never told them to do this. It was Berwald and Tino’s idea.”

“All because of… what? You said he stole a book?”

“It was a magical book,” Mathias says. “It’s my job to translate and take care of them. Lukas came after me for them and…” He clears his throat. He isn’t willing to share that intimate moment beneath the street lamp with anyone but himself. “I let him take one. I thought it wouldn’t matter. No one would ever know. Berwald figured it out though. Damn it.”

“Well he didn’t have it when he came to me. He won’t have it when he gets here either.”

Mathias takes a moment to picture the bloodbath that will arrive with Lukas. He shudders. If only they knew who he handed it off to. They don’t know who exactly does the translating for the enemy.

“What are you going to do?” Emil asks.

“Whatever I have to.”

 

They don’t have much, which Lilli continuously apologizes for, but it’s enough. Lukas accepts a sandwich and a cup of coffee, consuming them under Vash’s watchful gaze. He knows they’ll kick him out once he’s finished, ability to teleport or no, so he takes his time. He’s tempted to ask them more questions, but Vash is a brick wall type and will most likely refuse to answer.

His energy and magic are returning, thankfully. He thinks he can get back to the city in one more leap. When he gets there… he’ll do what needs to be done.

An image of Mathias appears in his mind. He waves it away. It doesn’t leave. He tries picturing what will happen when they meet again. Lukas imagines himself pushing the knife into Mathias’s heart and is instantly filled with revulsion. He rubs his temples. He can’t be soft this time, if only for Emil’s sake. Lukas needs to hate Mathias, needs to stifle his love just long enough to save his brother.

“Is something wrong?” Lilli asks, taking the empty coffee mug from him.

“My brother was taken. I’m… worried about him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Lilli covers her mouth with her hand, the picture of delicate shock. “Is that where you’re going? To rescue him?”

Lukas nods.

Vash sits up a little straighter. “I see,” he says.

“I should go now,” Lukas says, not willing to discuss the subject any further. “I still have a long way to travel.”

“You can leave through the garden,” Vash says. He stands. “I’ll show you out. Wait here, Lilli.”

Lukas allows Vash to physically push him down the hall and to the back door. They hesitate there for a moment, each of them unsure of what to say. Finally, Lukas speaks.

“This is a lot to ask, but when I get my brother back, can I bring him here?”

Vash considers, his green eyes darkening. “We might have room,” he says after a few moments. “I assume you wouldn’t be coming with.”

Lukas shakes his head. “I’ve been in it for too long. There’s nothing I can do now.”

“You must think we’re cowards.”

“No. I want Emil – my brother – to be safe. I tried so hard to keep him away from the war, but it wasn’t enough.” He looks away, before the pain begins to show on his face. “He would be better off here. Then I can finally leave him in peace.”

Vash nods. “Probably for the best,” he agrees. “Anyway, I hope you succeed.” He glances at Lukas’s side, where the knife lies beneath his jacket. “That’s a dangerous thing. You should probably throw it away.”

Lukas brushes his fingers across the fabric. “I need it. I can’t go against the enemy unarmed.”

Mathias will not lie down this time. He won’t allow Lukas to beat him like that again. Their next fight will be real and bloody and Lukas will win fairly. He will tear them apart for what they’ve done, no matter how much it wrenches at him to think of a world with Mathias cut out of it. He’ll do it for Emil. That’s all that matters.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost done writing this guys! There's a few more chapters to go. Then I can start posting the next part of this series. All aboard the angst train.

“You should take Emil somewhere else.”

“Why?”

Mathias stares at the painting on the wall behind Lovino’s head. It’s a watercolor of Venice, the sun reflecting off the canal waters. Looking closely, he notices Feliciano’s signature in the bottom corner. For a moment, he forgets that Lovino is asking him a question.

“Why?” the elder Vargas demands. “Why should we move Emil? I already told you this place is safe. His brother won’t be able to get in.”

“But he’ll come here,” Mathias says. “Lukas will track his brother down and he’ll want to kill whoever stands in his way.”

“If that’s the case, then moving him won’t do any good.” Lovino waves a hand. “If he’s as dedicated as you say, he’ll track us down to the safe house.”

Mathias forces himself to vocalize the next part of his request. “I’m willing to stay behind and handle him.”

Lovino’s scowl intensifies. He folds his arms, narrows his eyes and appears to weigh his options. “There’s a place,” he says, after some thought. “Feli and I can take him down south. We have a house. Even safer than here. Completely impossible to find. Is that good?”

More than Mathias could have hoped for. “Yeah. That’s perfect.”

“This isn’t permanent, got it?”

“Of course not.”

“Soonest we can leave is tomorrow.” Lovino is obviously not happy about the short notice. Mathias is just glad that he agreed at all. The brothers have a very comfortable existence here. It’s going to be a pain in the ass to transfer.

“Thank you. And… you can take the rest of the books with you.”

“The books are _your_ job,” Lovino snaps.

“It’s my job to keep them safe. They’ll be safest with you and Feliciano.”

The corner of Lovino’s mouth twitches. He throws his hands in the air. “Fine! We’ll do it. Any more requests, your majesty?”

“There’s no need to be rude,” Feliciano says through a mouthful of bread. “Mathias has the right idea. I really don’t want to stick around and see what happens when this Lukas guy shows up. Besides, they’re just a few books.”

“How come I don’t get a say in this?” Emil sits straight backed in one of the armchairs, his knees and elbows pulled in tight. His eyes travel from one person to the next.

“Because you’re our prisoner,” Feliciano helpfully explains.

“Why don’t you just hand me over to Lukas and cut out the middleman?”

“Quiet,” Lovino says. “Your brother stole from us. We’re trying to recover that property. If we hand you over, we get nothing.”

Emil looks away with a huff. Mathias tries to ignore him. It’s bad enough that they can’t return him and avoid bloodshed, but the cuffs are too much. Emil is just as much a mage as his brother and must be restrained, hence the engraved, magic-limiting hand cuffs. They don’t totally suppress his power, but it’s enough to prevent him from escaping or properly using his hands. Still, Mathias feels bad about it.

“It’s not so bad,” Feliciano says. “Our house is really nice! I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“This had better be worth it,” his brother adds, running his fingers through his hair. “You do your job right. Don’t die and fuck it all up.”

The swear jar goes unnoticed.

 

Berwald and Tino did a thorough job of destroying their trail, making it impossible to track down Emil. Good thing Mathias never bothers to cover his own tracks, or Lukas would be completely lost. He follows Mathias’s trail of magic from where they first met on the street to the alley behind the hotel, then on from there.

All the while, his heart pounds and his blood screams for vengeance. Hurting Mathias can’t heal him, but it will rid him of unnecessary baggage. It will tell him where Emil is. It will cut out his love and kill it.

A part of him begs not to go through with it. If he kills Mathias, it will only shadow him to the end of his days. Instead of relief, there will only be more weight. Yet this is what he’s supposed to do. Mathias is the enemy and should die. What else can he do? He’s already betrayed his people enough. As if he could ever get away with harboring these feelings.

The trail enters a fancy apartment building. Lukas guesses he can’t just walk in. He’ll have to wait for someone who lives here. He cloaks himself in magic and waits in the shadows. Eventually, a cab pulls up to the curb. A young woman climbs out, pays the driver, and heads for the door. Lukas hurries after her, slipping through just before the door closes.

He decides to stay invisible. It would be troublesome if he were seen on security footage. Lukas waits until the woman has moved on, then presses the button for the elevator. He can’t help but roll his eyes at how extravagant everything is here. The interior of the elevator is covered in mirrors and smells like the expensive cologne of those that rode it before him. Surely Mathias can’t live here. He is and always has been a starving artist.

Lukas stops at every floor and takes a moment to sense for magic. Sometimes it’s a smell. Other times it’s a sound. Most of the time, it’s a vague, tingling sensation underneath his skin. The first few floors are blanks. The fourth is where he feels it: a ward clashing with Mathias’s trail.

The protections are so strong that his head throbs. He steps into the hallway and rubs his temples. No, this can’t be Mathias’s work. It’s far beyond his skill level in defensive magic. In fact, he can’t recall anyone having defensive magic this potent. Not even Vash’s defenses were this good. Will the knife even work here?

At least it clearly identifies the apartment. The headache worsens as he gets closer. He fumbles for the knife beneath his jacket. His toes hit the barrier before the rest of him. It extends a little past the front door and it’s been tailored to keep people like him out. He’s impressed. Mathias picked some powerful friends to shack up with.

Lukas grips the knife with white knuckles. Whatever happens, his resolve will not waver. He will save Emil.

He drives the blade into the barrier.

 

“Someone’s cutting through the defenses!” Feliciano shouts.

They’re eating dinner and gathered at the kitchen table. Mathias drops the spoon he’s holding into Emil’s soup. He was trying to help Emil eat, even if the young man complained about being treated like a baby. A second ago, he was laughing. A second ago, he felt less awful.

Feliciano runs toward the door, hands outstretched. Mathias feels the crackle of his magic in the air. Lovino stops him, grabbing his younger brother by the wrists and pulling him backward.

“Idiot!” he shouts. “Don’t bother!”

“It’s Lukas,” Emil says.

It can’t be Lukas. He can’t be here already. Even if he could, how is he getting through the wards?

“Don’t just sit there! Do something!”

It takes Mathias a moment to realize that Lovino is shouting at him, not Feliciano. Mathias jumps up, dragging Emil with him. His chair clatters to the floor.

Emil, however, is quicker than Mathias to realize what’s going on and knees him in the stomach. As Mathias doubles over, Emil screams, “Lukas!” at the top of his lungs.

Mathias claps a hand over his mouth and attempts to get him out of the main room. He’s too panicked for a silence spell. Emil bites him. Mathias grits his teeth against the pain and jerks Emil back down the hallway a little rougher than he means to. Emil kicks and fights and keeps screaming through Mathias’s palm.

The defenses unravel and crash down like steel cables, whipping around unfettered before dying out. Feliciano actually shrieks. Mathias concentrates on getting to his room. The twins have taken shelter there as well.

“Here!” Mathias says, throwing Emil into Felciano’s arms. Both of them stumble, too surprised to either restrain or fight each other.

“You didn’t tell us this guy could undo protection spells!” Lovino roars.

“He can’t! Not like this.” Oh God, it’s all coming apart. He didn’t have any time to prepare. “Listen, you have to get out of here.”

He doesn’t need to say it twice. Felciano slaps his hand on the stack of books and meets Mathias’s eyes. “We’ll let you know where to find us.”

They’re gone in an instant, leaving behind the scent of pure magic. Strange, how Feliciano’s magic is cleaner than other kinds. It’s like fresh linen. And powerful. Mathias is almost knocked off his feet by the force of their passage.

He hears the front door slam open, rattling in its hinges. Then, “Mathias!”

 

It was a warm day, warmer than usual. Mathias had gone out to enjoy the weather by taking a walk in the park. He remembered feeling like he was floating. It was a good omen, he decided. It was a sign that he’d made the right decision.

Lukas hadn’t believed him when he’d explained about the other mages, just like he’d feared, but he’d understand now. Now he could introduce Lukas and Berwald to them. Then they could join as well.

So far, they’d just been going off of experimentation, hunting down the only two other mages they could find in the city – Berwald and Tino – and teaching each other in that patchy, insufficient way of the inexperienced. Now they would have real teachers, people to guide them.

Tino had been suspicious at first, but even he had had to admit that things felt right with the other mages. It was though they really belonged. Besides, they had asked if Lukas and Berwald could join, even though they hadn’t been specially invited, and were told it was fine.

Mathias could see a golden future spread out in front of him. The mages told him he had a special talent for books. They said he could be trained to reveal the secrets hidden in ancient tomes of magic. Just the thought of touching them made his fingers tingle.

Unable to contain his excitement anymore, he sprinted home. He had to tell Lukas now. He couldn’t wait. He had tried to say last night, but Lukas had been asleep. Then, Lukas went out early for breakfast and Mathias hadn’t caught him before he left. Now was the perfect time. He was probably practicing, but he could stand to be interrupted for news this important. And it was such good news that he might not even be mad.

His feet pounded on the stairs as he made his way up to the flat. “Lukas!” he called as he opened the door. “Lukas, I know you’re probably busy but I –”

Something was wrong. The flat felt… emptier than usual. Mathias took a cautious step inside. Had something happened? It was only too easy to imagine a robber breaking in, slitting Emil’s throat, going after Lukas…

Mathias shook his head. Both Emil and Lukas were magic. An ordinary robber would be no match for them. Then why was everything so quiet? He spent a few minutes calling their names, then inspected their rooms.

Both were cleaned out, the beds neatly made – Lukas’s signature style – their closets standing open and bare. The violin was gone. Only the music stand remained, a skeletal figure by the window.

They had gone. Without a word. Mathias’s heart was crumbling. It cracked when he finally noticed the plain white card lying on top of the dining table. He recognized Lukas’s neat handwriting. None of the words were comforting, and there were few of them to begin with. It was Lukas’s nature to be curt, but for the first time, Mathias saw it as hurtful. Lukas might as well have stabbed him in the chest a few times instead.

The note said nothing of where they’d gone. Just that, “We cannot be friends any longer. You have made your choice. I have made mine.” He hadn’t signed it either. There were no wishes of love or good fortune or anything that would have made the pain a little more tolerable.

Mathias tore the note into two pieces and let them catch fire in his hands, turning them to ash. He couldn’t do the same with his heart. With that, he struggled to pull them back together, to wrap a bandage around it so he could function.

He heard later from Tino that Lukas and Berwald had become their enemies.

 

Lukas’s hands are sweating. The barrier came down, but not without a struggle. Though it threatened to drain his energy, the knife took the brunt of the magic. All Lukas had to do was force in the blade.

He heard Emil. He heard his voice from outside, screaming his name. Lukas knows he must be here. Yet everything seems quiet. The door hangs from its hinges, creaking softly. He turns the handle of the knife.

“Mathias!” he yells. It echoes in the empty living room.

“I’m here.” He didn’t expect such a quick answer. Mathias steps out from the hallway, his ax already in hand. He looks like he might be sick, but the determination in his eyes says that this won’t be like the last fight. Mathias _will_ hurt him this time. And Lukas will kill him.

The range explodes. Fire bursts to life in the kitchen and roars toward Mathias. He spins the ax in front of him, deflecting the flames. Lukas takes advantage of his current distraction to launch himself at Mathias, blade first.

“Where’s my brother?” he demands as he slashes.

Mathias dodges just in time to receive only a cut on his arm. His sleeve turns red. “He’s gone. You won’t be able to see him again until you return the book.” He extends his hand.

Lukas slams into the counter. The force surprises him. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was hoping Mathias would go easy on him. It looks like this fight is for real. He can hardly catch his breath before the fire is coming towards him now. He rolls out of the way.

The blade of the ax buries itself in the floor, right next to his head. Lukas’s heart pounds, but he is calm. Fighting is something he knows how to do. It’s familiar. He forces himself up and brings the door with him, ripping it off the frame and hurling it at Mathias.

Mathias cuts it in half. The ax is powerful. Lukas wonders if the knife will really be enough for perhaps the thousandth time. But he is better at magic than Mathias. Hasn’t he always known this? Technically, it’s Mathias who’s brought a knife to a gun fight.

Lukas creates shards of ice and shoots them at Mathias one by one. They stab into chairs and walls and shatter against Mathias’s ax. One manages to land a hit in Mathias’s thigh. He stumbles. It’s Lukas’s turn to slam him into the counter. Mathias lets out a strangled grunt. The ax slips from his fingers.

“I’m going to do what I should have done a hundred years ago,” Lukas says.

Mathias regains his grip on the weapon. “Kill me?”

“What else?” Lukas dodges one swing, then another. Mathias is trying to back him into a corner. He ducks and aims for his opponent’s legs. Unfortunately, Mathias sees it coming; he bounds backwards, out of Lukas’s physical reach. “I should have gotten rid of you the second I learned you’d joined the enemy. I was weak then. Not anymore.”

Mathias sets his jaw. “I didn’t want to kidnap Emil.”

“Yet you sold me out to Berwald and Tino the first chance you got,” Lukas snaps back. His throat burns. “And here you are, protecting your clan. Just like you’re supposed to.”

Mathias tries to get him with the ax again, this time with some extra magic behind it. Lukas feels the force of it as he slides away. He’s not fast enough to dodge the next strike. He throws his blade up to deflect it. There’s a clash of metal against metal.

“Admit it,” Lukas says bitterly. “You were using me then, playing on feelings you thought I had for you. You took Emil to bait me.”

Mathias presses hard against the knife blade. Somehow, it’s holding up. The mermaids have granted Lukas a very powerful weapon indeed.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” Mathias says, “but this is what it came to. I never manipulated you.”

Lukas braces his wrist with his free hand. “Liar. If you had really cared about us, you would never have become our enemy in the first place!” He pushes back with all his strength, a burst of magic helping him along. It might be his anger that makes the surge extra powerful, or maybe it’s his focus. Either way, the ax goes flying into the wall. As Mathias steps back, Lukas points the blade at his old friend’s throat.

“The fact that you’re fighting me is proof enough of your guilt,” he continues. “I think it’s time we ended this.”

Mathias visibly swallows. A bead of sweat runs down from his forehead to his jaw. His lips move, but no sound comes out. There’s nothing he can say to change Lukas’s mind. After a moment, he closes his eyes, as if ready to accept his fate.

This is not how Lukas pictured he would kill Mathias. He used to hope that he would never have to. Yet it feels like it was fated. Only one can kill the other. The universe placed them together and tore them apart. This is right. This is just.

Lukas steadies the knife. _The blood of the prince will bring your tail back_. He won’t let his emotions rule him, not now. Emil needs him.

But would Emil want this?

It doesn’t matter. This is Lukas’s duty. He already knows that loving Mathias was a lie he told himself. He has woken up. He can do what needs to be done now. There are no more obstacles in his way. Mathias himself has conceded defeat. Only one existence can continue and it will be Lukas.

Their story should have ended years ago. It should have ended in that alley, outside the library, in their old flat in Copenhagen. One of them should have been bleeding dry on the floor and the other should have been standing over their body. It’s how the war works.

Lukas’s hand is shaking. He can’t move. All he can see is Mathias, crowding his vision, filling his memories. He can’t erase the image of Mathias standing over him in the bookshop, the curious energy in his eyes. He can’t forget the feeling of being held, of Mathias saying his name and telling him he loved him.

The knife sings for blood. Its song rings in Lukas’s ears, more haunting and sweet than anything he’s ever heard before. _Do it_ , it whispers. _Isn’t this what you’ve always hungered for?_

This can’t be happening. Lukas tells himself to follow through, but still his arm doesn’t move. Could Mathias have trapped him when he let his guard down? He doesn’t feel a spell surrounding him. He can’t have come this far and been so certain, only to choke when the time came. Mathias deserves this. He repeats this to himself in his mind. Mathias left him, Mathias betrayed him, Mathias toyed with his heart in unforgivable ways.

Yet Lukas can’t bring himself to kill Mathias. If he does, it will haunt him for years to come. The blood will never wash off and he will be more alone than ever before. The space that Mathias will leave in his world will swallow him.

The knife falls between them. Lukas stumbles back and sits heavily. Tears stream silently down his face. He can’t do it, just like he couldn’t before. He will turn to sea foam for his prince.

“Lukas…”

He thinks he will die. Mathias won’t let him go twice, not now that there’s so much on the line. Lukas hastily wipes his cheeks. He won’t go down crying. There’s his dignity to think about. In his mind, he says an apology to Emil. _I’m sorry I let this happen. I’m sorry I was weak and couldn’t protect you. It’s my fault you were dragged into this mess. An older brother should be better than this_.

Mathias kicks the knife away, then kneels in front of Lukas, gently prying his hands away from his face. His expression is sympathetic. He doesn’t look like he’s about to kill Lukas.

“Why didn’t you do it?” he says softly, the pain of a hundred years weighing down his voice.

“You need to ask?” Lukas replies.

“Oh. Oh, Lukas.” Mathias leans forward and draws Lukas into a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He buries his face in Lukas’s shoulder.

Lukas gently beats his fist against Mathias’s back. “Why didn’t you say you loved me then? Why did you wait until now, you idiot?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I never wanted this.” His voice is muffled. “Forgive me. Please. Lukas, forgive me.”

Lukas strokes Mathias’s hair. He has the words, but he’s not ready to say them. The knife continues to sing, screeching out discordant notes of anger. All that for nothing.

It takes him a moment to realize Mathias is crying.


	10. Chapter 10

They have to leave immediately. When Lukas destroyed the defenses, he took down all the privacy spells that came with them. The mortal neighbors are probably calling the police as Mathias and Lukas limp from the wreckage of the Vargas apartment, hidden behind a veil of magic so as not to turn up on the security cameras.

Once inside the elevator, Lukas places a hand over the wound on Mathias’s thigh. It isn’t as good as Feliciano’s healing abilities, but Mathias starts to feel better. In return, he fixes some of Lukas’s minor wounds. They go back and forth, healing each other on the ride down.

The police arrive. The tear tracks on Lukas’s cheeks are highlighted in the flashing lights. Mathias takes him by the hand and they continue down the sidewalk. He expects Lukas to protest, but Lukas remains uncomfortably silent. After a moment, his fingers curl over Mathias’s.

“Where did you send my brother?” Lukas asks when they are out of range of the chaos behind them.

“I don’t really know,” Mathias admits. “Feliciano told me he’d let me know when they got there.”

Lukas snorts. “I should have been faster.”

Mathias doesn’t say that he’s glad it took Lukas a while to get through the wards. He hopes it’s implied in the look he throws his way. For good measure, he adds, “They’re my clan. They’re good people.”

Lukas also chooses to communicate through facial expression. His says, “Yes, you would think that of your clansmen.”

“Who did you give the book to?” Mathias says.

“I can’t get it back to you. I’m not going to trade.”

“It’s the only way you’ll save Emil.”

Lukas frowns. He looks away. “We’ll negotiate later. I don’t have the energy to do this right now.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“I haven’t been counting,” Lukas says with a shrug. “You’d be surprised how quickly the hours slip by when you’re consumed with revenge.” He presses his hand against the side of his coat, where the knife is sheathed.

Mathias tried to convince him to leave it behind at the apartment, but Lukas insisted. He said something about returning it to the sea. Mathias hopes that doesn’t mean what he thinks it means, but he asks anyway, just to be sure.

“By the way,” he says, “where did you get that knife? I’ve never heard of something so powerful.”

Lukas maintains eye contact with the other side of the road. “It was given to me by the mermaids. And before you tell me how dangerous that is, save it. I know. Do you want to hear me admit how desperate I was?”

Mathias sucks air in through his teeth. “You don’t use weapons, Lukas. Even if you did, stuff like that has a mind of its own. You need to get rid of it.”

“I will.” He faces Mathias now, a light burning in his eyes. “It will go back to the ocean, where it belongs.”

“Why did you think you even needed it in the first place?”

“Your ax. It was the only thing that could stand up to it.”

“You’ve always been just fine without a weapon.”

“That’s because you’ve refused to really fight me.”

Mathias retreats into shamed silence. They keep walking. Mathias has no idea where they’re going. He’s waiting for a sign from Feliciano and trying to figure out what to do with Lukas at the same time. The gears in his brain turn uselessly. He’s exhausted.

After some thought, he says, “We both need to rest. Let’s get out of town and find a hotel.”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea? If we’re caught…”

“No one will know. Trust me.” Mathias smiles at Lukas, the way he used to when he was trying to convince Lukas to do something crazy. He’s sure Lukas recognizes it.

Lukas’s eyes narrow and he sighs. “Fine. I can’t argue with you anymore.”

 

Lukas doesn’t let go of Mathias — not in the cab, not in the lobby of the hotel, not even as they unlock the door. Now that his whole world has fallen apart around him, he feels the desperate need to cling to something solid. He lets Mathias talk. His voice drowns out the knife.

_I resisted it before. I can keep resisting it until I toss it back into the sea._

The room is modest, which is a nice way of saying “tiny.” It’s not a bad thing, but there’s one bed and not much elbow room. Lukas knows that he’s probably to blame for that. If he wasn’t holding Mathias’s hand, they wouldn’t have been taken as a couple.

Even though they are. But not really. There are still too many barriers they need to get past before Lukas can even consider having a relationship with Mathias that doesn’t involve trying to kill each other.

Lukas is forced to let go so that Mathias can use the bathroom. In the meantime, he sits on the end of the bed and studies the carpet. Stupid Mathias and his stupid, incomplete plans. He doesn’t know where Emil is, no doubt because he didn’t think to ask, and who knows what they’re going to do tomorrow. They can’t pull the same trick twice. There’s no excuse for Mathias to come out of this conflict alive.

Mathias returns. “We need to talk.”

“I thought so. Do you want to go first?”

He clearly doesn’t, but he starts anyway, coming to sit beside Lukas. “I swear on my life, I never wanted to bring Emil into this. He’s just as much my family as my clan is. You know that.”

“You could have just given him back and everything would have been fine.”

“No it wouldn’t. Not for me, at least. Nothing is ever that easy. But you know that, too.”

Lukas keeps staring at the carpet, waiting for the perfect answer to emerge, the thing to say that will set all of this right.

Mathias places his hand on top of Lukas’s. “I want to know what happened back then, before we picked sides. Why did you choose them? Really.”

“Because they got to me first,” Lukas replies, shocked at how easily it falls from his mouth. “They were watching me. Specifically, it was Arthur.”

“Kirkland?” Mathias says with a note of shock.

“Yes. He approached me when you weren’t around. At the time, I knew you were up to something, but I wasn’t sure what. I couldn’t stand that you were keeping secrets, so I justified hiding my meetings with Arthur from you.”

He remembers being frightened at first. Lukas thought Arthur had come to attack them. It was only after Arthur explained what he was that Lukas began to trust him.

“Both of us — Arthur and I — can see magical creatures and summon them,” Lukas continued. “It’s a special ability that only a few mages have been able to harness. As far as I know, your side doesn’t have anyone like that, so I chose theirs.”

Mathias lets out a long sigh. “All this time, I thought it was because you hated me.”

“I never hated you.” Lukas faces him. The hurt and relief in Mathias’s eyes is an assault on Lukas’s senses. He doesn’t look away. “I thought I did when I learned what you chose, but I could never follow through. You’ve seen it for yourself.”

“I was going to tell you. I was going to invite you to join me. They told me… they told me they’d accept you.”

“Lies. They knew I’d already made my choice. Besides, even if you had made me that offer, I wouldn’t have taken it. I needed Arthur’s experience.”

Mathias’s face falls. “I would have followed you, then.”

“Would you? After they offered you the position of Bookkeeper?”

Mathias opens his mouth to object, then closes it.

“I figured it out a long time ago,” Lukas says. “They saw who we were and wanted us, so they made an agreement to each take one. They planned to split us up from the beginning.”

“If you knew that, then why…?”

“Because we made a commitment. The first time you decided not to tell me where you were going, you picked them over me. I was always going to come second. Other men, other women, the enemy. You always chose them instead.” A few tears slip out. Lukas wipes them away with his sleeve. He has cried enough for one night.

“Lukas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“Of course you didn’t. That’s just what you’re like.”

Mathias strokes Lukas’s hair. “You never said,” he whispers.

“I guess we’re both too late to say the things we really need to.”

“It’s not too late.” Mathias’s eyes are misty again. He looks ready to burst.

Lukas sighs and gently brushes the corners of Mathias’s eyes with his thumbs. “Don’t cry. You always get worked up like this. How are we supposed to make this work if you can’t control your emotions?”

Despite himself, Mathias laughs. It’s a choked, fragile thing, but it’s genuine, and it lifts Lukas’s spirits, just a bit. He leans forward and kisses the side of Mathias’s mouth, tasting the salt from his tears. When he pulls away, he finds Mathias looking at him with a deep, longing expression. He only has seconds to process it before Mathias pushes him against the bed.

Lukas gives in, his arms coming up to hold Mathias closer, his back arching off the mattress as Mathias steals his breath. Mathias’s tongue runs over the seam of Lukas’s lips and he opens them. A shiver of pleasure runs through Lukas as he and Mathias explore the bare skin beneath each other’s shirts.

The earlier exhaustion falls away. The night goes on.

 

Mathias has a hard time convincing himself that this isn’t a dream. Lukas sleeps beside him, his bangs falling across his closed eyes. He seems looser, his lines softer. Not so cold. Not so far away. Mathias locks this image away into a vault, to be pulled out from time to time. He hopes for more moments like these, though the chances of this happening again are slim.

They shouldn’t linger too long, but Mathias would rather let the enemy kill him than leave the bed and ruin the moment. The clock reads 6 AM. Mathias takes another mental picture and resigns himself to what must be done.

He leans over and kisses Lukas between his shoulder blades, prompting a noise of complaint and a small wriggle. “We need to move,” he says.

Lukas opens his eyes. “You’re right. Ugh.” He pushes himself upright, fumbling in the dark for his hair clip. “You know, you’re the one who insisted I get some sleep, Mathias.”

“We can nap on the train.”

“Have you figured out where we’re going?” Lukas asks, pinning a section of his hair back.

“Kind of. Not really. No. Final answer is no.”

“I can’t believe they made you the Bookkeeper.”

 

Wind sweeps across the train platform where Mathias and Lukas stand. Mathias has been thinking all morning and, so far, has not received any messages from the Vargas twins. It’s becoming difficult for Lukas to mask his frustration. The time he spends with Mathias is both precious and dangerous. The sooner they come up with a plan to save Emil — and themselves — the better.

“Have you decided where we’re going yet?” Lukas asks, pressing against Mathias’s side. He isn’t cold, but doesn’t mind pretending he is if it means they can stand closer together. After years of being starved for contact, he’s gorging himself on it.

Mathias puts a hand to his mouth and makes a noncommittal noise.

Lukas stares across the tracks. He holds Mathias’s hand and waits. Rushing Mathias is no good. He’d rather have a carefully thought out strategy than one pulled out of thin air. Still, though the knife has quieted, Lukas is very aware of its presence beneath his coat. He tried to convince Mathias to head toward the nearest seaport, only to be shot down. It was too far away, apparently.

“Here’s what we do,” Mathias says as the train approaches. “You said you gave the book to Arthur. If you steal it from him and I steal Emil from wherever Feliciano and Lovino are hiding him, we can meet up and make an exchange.”

“No one can steal from Arthur. He’ll kill me before I can get away.” Lukas turns his gaze to Mathias. “Why bother if you’re just going to return Emil?”

“I want to leave something for my clan. As an apology.”

A sudden realization strikes Lukas. “You’re going to defect.”

“What else can we do? It’s that or we kill each other. Which we’ve already proved we can’t do, so that means it’s up to our friends to take care of it in our place.” He shrugs. “I don’t know where we’ll run away to right now, but I’ll think of something.”

“There’s a place,” Lukas says. “A brother and sister in Switzerland. They’re neutrals. I asked them to shelter Emil. They might be able to help us.”

His heart is racing with the possibilities. This plan has a thousand in one chance of working, but if they succeed, they could be free. Emil would be out of the war, and so would Lukas. And he and Mathias would be together, as they once were.

The train comes in, blowing their scarves in their faces. As boarding begins, Lukas releases Mathias’s hand.

“Lukas?”

“If we’re going to do this, we do it now. Do you understand?”

“You’re leaving already. I thought we might have a little more time,” Mathias says, doing his best to smile.

Lukas gives him a kiss — a small one, a promise. “I’ll be back,” he says. “And I’ll have the book. Go get Emil. When I have what I need, I’ll send you a message.”

Mathias pulls Lukas in for another kiss, crushing them together. Lukas briefly thinks that this could be the last time. He pushes that thought of his mind and breaks away.

“Remember, Lukas,” Mathias calls after him as he gets on the train. “Throw that thing away!”

Lukas puts a hand over the knife and nods. But he has a better idea of what to do with it now.

 

It’s only after Lukas has left that Mathias receives the message he was waiting for. He’s walking away from the platform when a nearby payphone starts ringing. He tries not to make an obvious dash for it. Anyone could be watching, in which case he’s in a lot more trouble than he initially realized.

It is, as he thought, Feliciano on the other end. Mathias isn’t comfortable with how precisely they located him. He needs to be more cautious of the brothers.

“ _Ciao_. You made it!”

“No one would have known if you’d just called my cell,” Mathias pointed out. “Anyone could have picked up.”

Feliciano makes a carefree noise. “Just to let you know, this is a very special place you’re coming to. It was my _nonno_ ’s before he died. Lovino says to make sure you’re not being followed.”

“I’ll be careful,” Mathias assures him. “Where is it?”

Feliciano gives him GPS coordinates, then hangs up. Mathias enters them into his phone before he forgets. It looks like he’ll be traveling a little farther south, into the Italian countryside. Mathias pictures a small, isolated farm where Emil will be safe.

Why did Lukas have to rush off like that? Mathias thought he was ready to betray his people, but the thought of what he has to do makes his stomach churn. If the Vargas brothers figure out what he’s doing, Lovino will kill him. Feliciano might be merciful, but Mathias has sensed a hidden nature underneath the younger twin’s freewheeling manner.

He’s come too far to back down now. He’ll keep his promise to Lukas. Freedom is more important than anything else. _For Lukas_ , he thinks as he buys a train ticket.

 

Mathias’s imagination let him down. He vastly underestimated Grandpa Vargas’s property. The house is enormous. In fact, it’s not a house — it’s a manor. There is a farm, but’s it’s mostly orchard, grapevines, and tomato plants, stretching as far as he can see. Mathias’s jaw hangs open as he takes in the enormity of it all. He’s heard of places like these, but as a city dweller all his life, he’s never really been in the presence of one.

Mathias was able to pass through the magical barriers surrounding the place with ease. They must be keyed to admit members of their side. The Vargas brothers probably know he’s here now. He waits for them by the front door, sweating from the long walk.

Feliciano emerges, his hands covered with flour from baking. His expression is light as always, though Mathias senses some tension. He might be imagining it. Mathias has been on edge since Lukas left.

“I’m surprised you’ve never been here before,” Feliciano says as he leads Mathias inside. “Most people from our side have visited at least once.”

The manor is filled with art. A large painting of a man hangs above the stairs. He must have been Lovino and Feliciano’s grandfather. Wait…

“Is that… Roma?” Mathias asks, pointing at the picture.

Feliciano nods. “Yeah. That’s him.”

How could Mathias not realize who the brothers were? There’s a reason why they’re so powerful — they’re descendants of Roma, the man who led them in the old days of the war, one of the most potent mages that ever lived. Mathias knows things can slip past him sometimes, but he’s been really stupid not to notice.

Feliciano smiles as he watches Mathias put two and two together. “I probably should have mentioned it,” he says. “We don’t like to talk about it much. It’s hard to remember that only a few people know who we really are.”

“You two are our leaders?”

Feliciano shrugs. He and Lovino don’t seem like leaders, though they must be. They inherited both strong magic and the war from their grandfather. It’s strange to think of them commanding anyone. No wonder Antonio brought Mathias to them; the translation of the books was their business more than anyone else’s.

Mathias follows Felciano upstairs to his room. It’s almost too nice for Mathias. The bed has a canopy. There’s a plush window seat. A roll top desk is set against the wall. Mathias lifts the lid. The books are stacked there, waiting for him.

“Hopefully you’ll be able to finish translating here,” Feliciano says. “It’s nice and quiet. Most of the time. You and Emil are only guests right now.”

“Are there usually more?” Mathias asks.

“Antonio visits a lot. But that’s because he loves my brother.” He says it so directly. “Sometimes Roderich or Francis stays for a while. Lovi doesn’t like it when there are lots of people here at the same time. Grandpa used to throw parties,” he adds wistfully.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“Thank you.” Then, Feliciano crosses the room and places his hands on Mathias’s shoulders. He’s shorter than Mathias, so the effect is sort of strange, but his gaze is both serious and warm, drawing Mathias in. Mathias can sense his age again.

“We’re really glad you’re alive,” Feliciano says. “Whatever you did to stop Lukas…”

Mathias swallows.

“It’s okay if you regret it.” Lower, he says, “It’s okay if you didn’t hurt him at all. I believe we should all love each other, no?”

Mathias should pretend he doesn’t understand. He should play dumb. But Feliciano is so sincere that it drags sincerity from other people.

“You’re right,” Mathias agrees. “I did what I had to, but he’s still alive. I promise he won’t come here though.”

“Good. Killing is horrible.” Feliciano cast his eyes down. “I won’t tell anyone what you said, as long as you don’t tell anyone what I said. Understand?”

Mathias nods. Both he and Feliciano are silent for a few moments. Mathias isn’t sure he can hold all these secrets without collapsing.

“Would you like to see Emil?” Feliciano asks, ending the time for sharing.

“I would, but I don’t think he wants to see me.”

“He likes you better than he likes me and Lovi. You should say hi to him at least. He’s been grumpy ever since we got here.”

If anyone is allowed to be grumpy, it’s Emil. Mathias needs Emil to cooperate with him for the plan to work, so the sooner he smoothes things over the better. He needs to know that Lukas is alive and well.

“Where is he?” Mathias asks.

“In the garden.”

 

Emil has to admit that he is a very comfortable prisoner. As soon as he and the brothers arrived at the manor last night, he was knocked out again and woke up in a soft bed. His door had been locked, but later, Feliciano let him go outside. No one worries that he’ll make a run for it. He suspects that the defenses around the grounds will also keep him in.

Lukas almost saved him last night. He was so close. He might be dead now. Emil wants to believe that his brother killed Mathias and is on his way to the manor, but that’s unlikely. Not even Mathias knows where they are. Lukas could be alive and searching, even though he has no clue where the enemy took Emil.

The weather is too nice for winter. Emil is used to colder temperatures and is more sensitive to warmth, but he knows the flowers in the garden shouldn’t be blooming. There’s magic in everything here, mostly to make it beautiful. Emil doesn’t trust this place.

Someone is coming. He hears them walking down the pebbled path. He turns around so that whoever it is doesn’t get a jump on him. Emil is both startled and not surprised at all to see that Mathias is there.

_Lukas is dead_. That’s the only explanation. Lukas would never surrender. The look of guilt on Mathias’s face says as much. Emil’s stomach clenches. He can’t believe Mathias was family once. All that stuff he said about caring for Lukas was bullshit.

“Go away,” Emil says. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, just give me a second to explain…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You killed my brother. You betrayed him, broke his heart, and now you killed him. What makes you think I’ll believe a word that comes out of your mouth?”

Mathias shakes his head. “I didn’t kill him. I swear.”

“You swear,” Emil spits back mockingly. He marches up to Mathias, who stays where he is. “So what happens to me now, huh? Am I your prisoner forever now? I guess that’s enough for you. You’ve got Berwald, Tino, and me. We can all be your happy little family again. That’s what you always wanted, wasn’t it?”

Emil’s words strike a nerve in Mathias. Mathias turns his gaze to the flowers at his feet. He’s quiet at first. For a second, Emil thinks the conversation is over, but Mathias eventually replies.

“It wouldn’t mean anything without Lukas. I know it’s impossible for us to be like that again. I know it’s stupid to think we can just go back. I know that.” He lifts his head. “You’re not going to be a prisoner forever. I’m going to help you.”

Emil blinks up at him. His anger is getting muddled by how honest Mathias sounds right now. He steps back, as if physical distance will clear his head.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“Lukas is alive,” Mathias whispers, glancing around the garden. There’s no one there, but Emil’s pretty sure the Vargas brothers have other ways of listening. “He’s going to get the book back and we’ll trade. Then we’re getting out of the war.”

“Are you kidding?” Emil says. “Are you crazy? How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Why would I tell you something that could get us both killed?”

“You can’t just get out of the war. Lukas would have quit years ago if you could.” Emil points at himself. “I stayed out of it for ages and I _still_ got pulled into it.”

“Trust me,” Mathias says. “I get that you’re angry. I would be mad at me, too. But I really want to help you. I’m going to trade you back to your brother no matter what. We just have to wait until he has the book.”

Emil thinks it over. Mathias has always been the one to come up with crazy schemes that never work. It could be that Mathias genuinely wants to set things right, but Emil doesn’t see what he can do to free himself and Lukas from the war. Where would they go if they ran?

“You can’t help me,” Emil says finally. “You can try, if you want to, but it’s too late to save me. You can’t even save yourself.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and walks deeper into the garden, ignoring Mathias’s calls for him to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided Grandpa Rome's name would be Roma. I'm kind of copying George deValier because I'm too lazy to come up with a significant name for him. Sorry, readers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I have actually finished writing this fic! I'm so sorry for the long pauses. As you might know, NaNoWriMo starts next month, so I'll have my hands full with that, but you can probably expect some updates during that time.

England is a dreary place. It also densely populated by the fair folk, even after the country became filled with iron and smoke. Lukas’s ancestors sacked this place and conquered its people long before he was even an idea, and now, he is a subordinate to Arthur.

Lukas catches the attention of several minor fairies as he passes through the countryside. They pull his hair, tease him, and one of them even attempts to bite him. Lukas grabs that one in his fist and incinerates it. The fairies respond well to cruel displays of power and practically fall over themselves trying to get away.

He doesn’t feel good about killing one of them. Lukas has a healthy respect for magical creatures and they tend to do the same for him. But this is Arthur’s domain. The fae know his name more than Lukas’s, and as such, don’t care about the Norwegian at all. To them, he’s just another human, albeit one who can see them.

They could sell him out. Even fairies that acknowledge Lukas’s powers have no real loyalty to him. If and Mathias run away, Arthur could track them through a network of fair folk.

Will he have to kill Arthur?

Lukas’s mouth is dry as he gets off a train in Arthur’s village. If turning the irritating fairy to ash bothered him, he doubts he’ll be able to do the same to Arthur. As the only two mages they know of who can perceive magical creatures, they share an understanding that no one else has. Their connection to magic is different, older, and more obscure. Lukas considers them friends, if not strong ones.

If all goes to plan, he won’t have to hurt Arthur.

Lukas walks through town to Arthur’s house. Arthur has two homes — one in London and one out here in the country. The country house is the one he uses for translating. He claims he can’t concentrate in the city. Lukas knows he’ll be here, working on the book Lukas gave him.

Before he rings the bell, Lukas checks for the knife again. It’s not like it can get up and walk away, but its presence makes him paranoid. It wakes up on Arthur’s front step, probably sensing the other magic artifacts inside.

Arthur answers the door, wearing glasses and a green sweater. He looks tired. His eyes widen at the sight of the young man standing in front of him.

“Lukas. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I’m sorry. May I come in? I have something that might interest you.”

Arthur steps aside and shuts the door behind Lukas. The house smells old. The stairs have had generations of feet traveling up and down them. The shelves have had countless books placed on them and forgotten. Lukas, who has to move around frequently, feels a pang of loss for a life he could have had. He envies Arthur’s permanence.

“Can I get you a cup of tea? Biscuits?”

“No thanks.”

Arthur leads Lukas to his study. Lukas’s breath catches slightly when he sees the book open on the desk, surrounded by handwritten notes. He tries not to show much interest in it.

“What did you say you have?” Arthur asks, circling the desk to shut the book. His touch is gentle, like it might bite him.

Lukas takes the knife out from under his jacket and holds it out to Arthur, handle first. “I got this from some mermaids in Helsinki.”

“How?” Arthur asks, his jaw dropping. “The ones I’ve talked to never gave me anything.”

“I had to bargain for it. They like music.”

Arthur holds the knife gingerly. Unlike the book, this really could bite him. Lukas’s throat tightens as he looks at it. He almost killed Mathias with that knife.

“I don’t trust this.” Arthur turns it over. “There’s something hungry about it.”

“I thought it would be better off in your hands,” Lukas says. “As it turns out, I didn’t really need it.”

“Why did you even ask for something like this?”

Lukas keeps his gaze locked on Arthur, avoiding the book with all his might. “It’s a long story. You probably don’t want to hear it.”

Arthur gives him a suspicious look, but doesn’t press. “I’ll have to bind this. Let me see…” He moves toward the door to the study. “I think I have some things in the kitchen that will work. It’ll have to be a bit of a patch job until I get some real supplies, but it will do for now.”

“Do you need help?” Lukas asks, following him a few steps out of the room. He prays Arthur won’t say yes.

“No, no. I’m perfectly alright. This won’t take long. Just wait here.”

Lukas’s heart pounds as he waits for Arthur to disappear around a corner. He quickly backs into the study and comes around the side of the desk. Hopefully the task of binding the blade will give Lukas enough time to conceal the book on his person.

He pauses as he lays a hand on the cover. Arthur keeps only one picture on his desk. The photo is old. It’s of a boy — a teenager at the youngest, really — smiling at the camera, covered in streaks of dirt. Is this the person that Arthur couldn’t save? Lukas has only heard vague things about this boy and Arthur doesn’t like to talk about it.

Lukas shakes his head. This is no time to get soft. He picks up the book and concentrates. It lets off a magical signal so strong that attempting to smother it is a fool’s errand. Lukas has no choice but to try. It just has to last long enough for him to get out.

The pulse of magic begins to wane as Lukas’s hands start trembling. His own power is being drained rapidly. He won’t be able to maintain this for long. In another part of the house, Arthur opens a drawer. He’ll be done soon and he’ll come back and he’ll notice the book is gone. Lukas has to go, _now_.

Lukas can’t move very fast however, lest his concentration breaks. He also can’t make a lot of noise. Every step he makes seems to set off a wave of creaks and groans from the floorboards. Lukas grits his teeth. He tries to move naturally, like he’s just wandering down the hallway, admiring Arthur’s collection of framed artifacts. The book seems to squirm beneath his arm.

He reaches the foyer at the same time Arthur finishes. Lukas can sense the binding of the knife. Everything seems quieter now. Lukas had gotten so used to its song for blood that he hardly even noticed its presence.

“There we are,” Arthur says from the kitchen.

Lukas presses the book closer to his body and makes a dash for the door. He reaches for the handle…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He’s failed. Lukas’s stomach drops. The books magical energy breaks free. There’s no hiding it anymore. Lukas doesn’t know whether Arthur will kill him or merely report him to whoever’s in charge.

“Why, Lukas?” Arthur asks, his voice heavy with betrayal. “Is this about Køhler?”

“No,” Lukas lies. “It’s about Emil. They have my brother.”

Arthur’s gaze is sympathetic. “I had a feeling something was wrong. Why else would you take something from the mermaids? You’re usually smarter than that.” He sighs, holding up the bound blade, wrapped in leather straps and herbs. “Your plan would have worked, Lukas, if you were attempting to steal anything else. I could feel its signal diminishing from across the house.”

Lukas closes his eyes. How could he have been so stupid? Desperation made him sloppy. There’s a reason why he’s tried to distance himself from strong emotion all these years.

“I just want Emil back,” he says. “They’re willing to trade for the book.”

“Why didn’t you come to us first? We could have helped you.”

“It was personal. Emil isn’t part of the war. I decided to handle it myself.”

“Let me guess: you took the knife so that you could get revenge, but something stopped you. I’ll ask you again. Is this about Køhler?” Arthur’s tone is not harsh, but it is firm.

“No.” Lukas can be firm as well. He can make Arthur believe him. “It was Oxenstierna and Väinämöinen. I tried to track them but they lost me. I decided the only thing left to do was give in to their demands.”

“You can’t be serious. If the enemy has even the slightest advantage —!”

“I know. I don’t want them to hurt Emil.”

Arthur falls silent and considers. Is he thinking of the boy in the picture or is Lukas mistaken in thinking Arthur will understand?

 _Please. Let me do this_.

“When were you going to make this trade?”

“Whenever I had the book,” Lukas admits.

“I assume you can contact them.”

 _Faen_. This is all wrong. Of course Arthur won’t just let him go. Of course. Lukas was a fool to think otherwise. Being around Mathias has clouded his thought processes. Normally, he wouldn’t be so naively optimistic.

Arthur sets the knife down on a small table, next to a bowl of keys. “We’ll let them think you’re going through with the trade. Tell them you have the book and pick a meeting place for the exchange. I and a few others will accompany you. Then we can spring a trap on the enemy.”

“But Emil…”

“We’ll rescue your brother,” Arthur reassures him, resting a hand on Lukas’s shoulder. “I promise he won’t get hurt. If all goes well, it will be a quick operation.”

Lukas can’t object. They will kill him if they realize how deep his treason runs. Helplessly, Lukas nods. It was arrogant of him to come so soon, to think he could trick Arthur into letting him leave. He can’t even warn Mathias. No doubt someone will be listening when he makes contact. And though he’s sure Arthur truly wants to help, he wouldn’t put it past his clan to draw Emil further into the war.

Lukas places the book in Arthur’s hands, his heart heavy with the certainty that he’s just ruined everything.

 

Mathias translates until his brain is mush. He locks himself in his room and works without stopping. He eats while he works. Feliciano is happy to make him sandwiches. Mathias finishes a book. It only takes him a few days. It’s a new personal record for him, but he can’t celebrate. There’s so much more to do before he leaves.

After the rocky conversation with Emil, Mathias figured it was best to let him be for a while. He’ll come around eventually. With each new section of ancient text Mathias translates, he becomes more and more convinced that this will work.

Lukas is clever. He’ll be able to take the book, they’ll make the trade, and then they will disappear. It’s not a sure thing, obviously. There’s still a lot standing between them and freedom, but Mathias refuses to dwell on the negatives. He has to believe in his heart and soul that it will work.

Mathias is deep in a rather complex passage when he hears a voice. It’s late at night. Only Mathias is awake at this hour. Besides, the voice didn’t sound like the Vargases or Emil.

“Mathias.” It sounds faint, but close, like a whisper. “It’s me.”

Lukas. Mathias stands and looks around. He can’t tell where Lukas’s voice is coming from. Lukas must have opened a passage through space to speak to him. He won’t be able to hold it open for long.

“Do you have it?” Mathias asks, trying to be quick.

“Yes. Where should we trade?”

“Florence. I’ll find you by the book.”

“Alright.” A pause. “How’s Emil?”

“He’s unharmed. They’re treating him well.”

Lukas breathes a short sigh of relief. “I’ll see you in two days.”

The brief communication ends. Lukas seemed tense, but Mathias was expecting that. He’s on the run from his clan with a valuable book of magic.

Mathias returns to the desk and scrubs his hands through his hair. Two days. Two days to finish it all. The letters swim across the page in front of him. He won’t be able to keep working tonight. Even if he could, translating it all would be impossible.

They’ll have to find another translator. There must be someone else out there. Someone could even be taught how to do it. Mathias will be leaving both the books and the notes anyway.

He feels a ripple of uncertainty. Is this the right choice? He remembers how happy he was when he first met his clan, when he became friends with Antonio and the others. And what about the Vargas brothers? Lovino’s a bit rough around the edges, but both he and Feliciano have given Mathias so much.

Mathias strips off his clothes and crawls into bed. He can’t start having second thoughts now. He’s so close to freedom that he can taste it. Besides, whatever happiness he felt at being with his clan is outmatched by the pure euphoria of waking up next to Lukas.

 

“I set up a trade,” Mathias says. “I’ll be taking Emil to Florence the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s great!” Feliciano says. He looks at his brother, whose irritated expression hasn’t changed.

“When did you agree to an exchange?” Lovino demands.

“I made a deal with Lukas. He’s willing to do anything to get his brother back.”

“So you didn’t kill him?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Feliciano says quickly. “What’s important is that we get the book back.”

Mathias shoots Feliciano a grateful smile. “Anyway, you can tell Emil that he’s not a prisoner anymore.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Lovino grumbles. He leans against a window, arms folded tightly across his chest. He’s been in a bad mood all morning. Someone who didn’t know Lovino wouldn’t be able to tell, since he always seems to have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. Mathias wonders if the brothers are keeping something from him.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Lovino grunts in response.

“I guess we should all get ready,” Feliciano says, clapping his hands.

Mathias frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Lovi and I are coming with.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure I can take care of it. Lukas won’t try to kill me again.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Lovino says. “He might try to double cross you. He’ll take his brother and the book. Can’t be too careful when it comes to the enemy.”

This is the last thing Mathias wants, but how is he supposed to argue? He’s outranked. Mathias will just have to come up with something once they arrived in the city. He prays it won’t come down to a fight.

 

Elizaveta enters the room with a bang. There’s no mistaking the gleam in her eye. It doesn’t matter that Lukas wants to handle things peacefully. Elizaveta goes where the fight is. It gets her blood flowing.

“Finally,” she says, flinging herself down on Arthur’s sofa. “We’ve got a chance to get those bastards back. They’re not escaping this time.”

“Definitely,” Arthur says.

Lukas stares at his hands. There’s no use protesting. His heart is still heavy with guilt from the call he made to Mathias. Lukas couldn’t warn him, not with Arthur breathing down his neck. It was a good thing Mathias hadn’t said anything damning. Perhaps he was also being monitored.

He shouldn’t be worrying about Mathias. He should be more concerned for Emil. He’s afraid of Emil getting caught up in the battle, getting injured or worse. Arthur keeps assuring him that their operation will be quick and powerful. The enemy won’t have a chance to strike back. That’s the problem with Arthur: he underestimates his opponents.

Elizaveta and Arthur are soon deep in discussing plans of attack. Lukas tunes them out. If he’s needed, they’ll let him know. _There’s got to be a way to warn Mathias_. If he could just sneak away for a few minutes…

However, the moment he stands up, Arthur turns to him and says, “Oh, Lukas. Is Køhler still using that beastly ax of his?”

Lukas nods. Elizaveta grins and flexes her fingers. In his mind, Lukas hears the clash of metal on metal. If they engage with the enemy, someone will end up dead, and if Elizaveta has her way, it will be Mathias. He frowns at the picture before him: Elizaveta and Arthur in the sitting room, talking over cups of tea. They are old friends. They should be close to Lukas as family. But he aches for that family he lost a hundred years ago.

“What’s that look for?” Elizaveta asks, her voice softening. She stands up and goes to him. She puts her hands on his shoulders.

Lukas brushes them off. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s alright. I know you’re worried about Emil. We’ll rescue him.”

He doesn’t need her assurances. He doesn’t need their looks of concern. Back then, they drove a wedge between him and people he loved. He hadn’t minded at first, because they’d convinced him it was Mathias and Berwald’s fault for leaving. They had filled the empty space Mathias had left. Now they aim to do it again and act as though it’s a kindness.

“I know,” he says. “Just leave me alone.” He goes to the kitchen and closes the door. They’ll give him space. There’s no guarantee they won’t eavesdrop. He has to think of a way out, a safety. Lukas leans against the counter and tries to plan.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am so sorry. School/finals happened. It keeps happening. When will I learn? Anyway we're so close to the end I can taste it. Thank you for hanging in there!

It’s a beautiful day. _A good day for running away_ , Mathias thinks. _A good day for fixing things_. The plan still stands, even if Lovino and Feliciano have invited themselves along. He opens up the train window and lets fresh air spill into the compartment. It causes the twins to huddle into their jackets — and for Lovino to shoot him a death glare — but Mathias won’t allow anything get him down today.

Emil is a different story. He sulks in the seat between Lovino and Feliciano, occasionally glaring at his surroundings. His reaction to being told he was going back home was odd, Feliciano said. All he’d done was nod and shrug, as if the whole thing had been an inconvenience. No joy, no rage. Mathias guessed that he’d burned out his energy these past few days. Emil is cooperating. That’s good enough.

They take the train halfway, then get off and teleport. Feliciano insisted on it. “I’ll need to conserve energy, since we’re going to meet the enemy and all.”

Mathias starts to feel less confident about avoiding a fight. If even Feliciano is preparing for it, that means the chances are good that today’s exchange might end in violence. Well, he’ll make sure it doesn’t happen. Lukas is coming to meet them alone. He and Mathias will be gone before anyone knows what’s going on.

The rush of teleportation knocks Mathias off balance. They’re in the city, in an alleyway. The twins each take one of Emil’s arms. It’s unnecessary. He didn’t even try to bolt.

“Where are you meeting him?” Lovino asks.

“He didn’t say. He wants this to be quick and quiet. We’ll follow the book’s magical energy.”

Mathias closes his eyes and reaches for any trace of magic he can find. There are residual smudges of it everywhere. Magic has bled into the foundations of the buildings. It lingers in the air. At first, there’s too much noise to find a unique signal, but soon Mathias discovers a tiny thread weaving among the live bodies and cold machines of Florence.

“I found it,” he says. Now that he knows what to look for, its presence grows stronger. He starts to follow the thread, like Theseus in the labyrinth.

The twins keep close. Feliciano murmurs something to his brother in Italian. Mathias tries not to worry about it. They don’t suspect him. He’s done nothing to make them suspicious. He keeps walking, winding the invisible thread around his wrist. This book has a clean feeling to it. Each book is different and this one is like a high, pure soprano sustaining a long note. Come and find me, it calls to every magically inclined being in the area.

He almost thought it wouldn’t be possible. He didn’t want to doubt Lukas, but Mathias knows the enemy can’t have just handed him the book. And Lukas could have been caught. He could have been killed without Mathias’s knowledge. Except he wasn’t, because this is the plan unfolding in front of him, right now. Mathias’s hands are shaking.

All four of them are tired by the time they reach the source of thread. It’s an old building, marked for demolition. It’s been fenced off and plastered with warning signs. Of course, that hasn’t stopped kids from sneaking in to tag it and litter. Mathias kicks a glass bottle aside as he approaches the gate.

“This isn’t a trap, right?” Lovino asks.

“I thought you guys came along in case it _was_ a trap.” The gate is unlocked. Mathias lifts the latch. His mouth is a desert. This is it. He glances over his shoulder at Emil. Emil is looking everywhere but him.

“All I’m saying is that this place is sketchy and I can’t sense any presence aside from the book.”

“That’s the book scrambling everything around it. You’re underestimating how badly Lukas wants Emil back.”

“You could be right, you could be wrong.” Lovino’s eyes scan the decaying house. “We’re dealing with the enemy. Who’s to say Lukas is really alone in there?”

“Would you stop ruining this for me?” Mathias snaps. He realizes his mistake a second too late. “I mean,” he says, backpedaling, “getting the book is our top priority right now. It’s my duty as Bookkeeper. So even if this is risky, I’m going to take any chance I get.”

Lovino rolls his eyes. He shuts up though, so Mathias must have said the right thing. Feliciano seems uncertain as well, but he’s not arguing. He whispers something to Lovino again. Mathias wonders if there’s any way to get them to wait outside.

“Could we hurry this up?” Emil demands. “I want to see Lukas.”

Mathias pushes the gate open.

 

“I heard the door open. They’re here,” Elizaveta says, straightening in her chair. She stands and holds up her hand to conjure her frying pan.

Arthur stops her. “Hold on. Not yet.” He turns to Lukas. “Go and meet them in the front. Let them think you’re really going through with it.”

Lukas nods. He picks up his bag from the corner of what used to be a kitchen and slings it over his shoulder. His insurance is in the inside pocket. The thought of it does little to comfort him. Success hinges on getting to Emil before Arthur and Elizaveta launch the ambush.

“Hello?” That’s Mathias’s voice.

Lukas steels himself and calls back, “I’m here. Keep your voice down.” He leaves the kitchen and walks down the hall to the remnants of the foyer. This used to be a grand old house. Soon it will be nothing but dust. He catches the sound of creaking above his head. _Not yet. Not yet_.

Mathias stands in the middle of foyer. Behind him are two men who can only be Lovino and Feliciano Vargas. They are holding Emil. It takes a shocking amount of willpower not to run to Emil’s side. Lukas walks slowly toward them, clutching the strap of his satchel.

“I didn’t know you were bringing them,” he says, stopping a safe distance from their little party. So they wouldn’t let Mathias go alone either. The brothers are carefully tracking his movements. Their distrust is written across their faces.

“Just in case,” Mathias says. “You’ve got the book?”

“Let me see Emil first.” He needs to give him the letter.

“Book first, then your brother,” the darker haired Vargas says.

Lukas shakes his head. “I won’t let you have it until I know Emil is alright.”

“He’s fine,” Mathias assures him. “At least show us that you have it.”

Lukas pulls the book out of his bag. He holds it up so that Mathias can see. “Of course I have it. How else did you know how to find me? Now let me talk to Emil!”

The Vargases release Emil. He hurries to Lukas, who gives up on self-restraint and flings his arms around Emil. His clothes are cool from outside. He doesn’t seem weak and it smells like he’s recently showered. Mathias was telling the truth about his treatment. Even so, Lukas asks, “Did they hurt you?”

“No. Not physically. Lukas—”

“One second.” Lukas opens the inside pocket of his bag.

“Hey! We gave you your brother!” The dark haired Vargas crosses his arms. “Book. Now.”

Lukas glares at him. This man, of all people should understand. Doesn’t he care just as much for his own brother? But this is what Lukas came to do. He can still get the letter to Emil before all hell breaks loose. If Mathias is fast enough, they might be able to get out of here in time.

Lukas hands the bag to Emil. “Hold onto this,” he whispers.

Emil nods. “Lukas, Mathias said something about—”

“Later.”

“You’re going to let them do this? You’re going to let them win?”

“It’s not about winning, Emil. It’s about how much I love you.” _And Mathias_.

His words have the desired effect of embarrassing Emil into silence. Lukas holds out the book and takes a step toward Mathias. His stomach churns as he does so. He can feel Elizaveta preparing for war. _Faen. A thousand times faen_. There has to be a way to warn Mathias. The Vargas brothers will kill him the moment they perceive a threat. They’ll know that Mathias has betrayed them if Lukas tells him his enemies are lying in wait.

Mathias beams down at him. What a simple fool. He charged here without a second’s thought. He believes that their plan will work. Lukas’s arms tremble as Mathias reaches for the heavy tome in his hands.

And all he can say is, “Mathias, I’m sorry.”

“What?”

That’s when the assorted members of Arthur’s impromptu attack force leap from the shadows.

 

There are seven of them in total. Mathias has just enough time to count them as they emerge from behind their cloaking spells. Elizaveta even slides down the bannister, brandishing her frying pan. A barrier goes up behind them and Mathias realizes they’ve been trapped inside. “Nowhere to run, Bookkeeper,” she says.

“What did I tell you!” Lovino shouts.

Not only is Elizaveta here, but so is Arthur. Mathias doesn’t recognize the rest of them. Though they don’t appear very strong, Mathias doubts they’re weaklings. He is free-falling through the floor to the center of the Earth. Lukas covers his eyes with one hand.

A trap. After all that, Lukas led him into a trap.

A spell explodes just above his head. He stumbles backwards. There’s a shield around him that can only be Feliciano’s. At least one of them is thinking clearly. Mathias can’t take his gaze off Lukas and Emil.

“I didn’t expect you to come with such little support,” Arthur says, magic glowing around his hands. “Perhaps you should beg for mercy and surrender, considering you’re outmatched.”

“Who’s outmatched?” Lovino shoots back. He thrusts his hand toward the ambush party and fire bursts up from the floor. The heat ripples across Mathias’s face.

Only two are caught in Lovino’s spell. The rest manage to either shield themselves or dodge. Lukas and Emil cling to each other as they run down a corridor.

Mathias moves without thinking. He leaves the protection of Felciano’s shield. A tangle of vines breaks through the floorboards and wraps itself around his ankles. He hits the ground hard. Elizaveta stands above him, the frying pan poised to strike. “Did you really think it was going to be that easy?”

 

Lukas shoves Emil into the kitchen. “There’s a back door. Go!”

“No!” Emil holds the satchel against his chest. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“You’re not a part of this, Emil. I’m giving you a chance to get away.”

“But what about you?” Emil blurts.

Lukas presses his fingers to his temple. “I used up all my chances. You can still leave. Just run and don’t stop until you’ve reached somewhere safe. There’s a letter in the backpack. You’ll need it to— ”

“Mathias said you were going to run away together. Is that true?”

That brings Lukas to a screeching halt. He struggles for a simple answer. “I… it’s complicated. Either way, it’s no use now. All I can do is make sure you’re safe.”

Emil hesitates. He looks his brother in the eye. “I won’t abandon you. I’m here now. I’m not going to let you handle this alone.”

“Emil…”

“Lukas, you’re my only family. If I go, you go.”

Lukas shakes his head. “No. Not without…”

“Mathias. I can’t believe this. You really were going to leave with him.” Emil places the satchel’s strap across his chest so he can take Lukas by the shoulders. “I thought he was lying. I thought he’d just come back from _killing_ you.”

“I’m alive. Maybe not for much longer.”

“Don’t say that. Christ, Lukas. Look, if you’re going to save Mathias, I might as well help.”

“No.”

“I care about him too, okay! Even if I’m really pissed at him for holding me hostage.” Emil sighs. “He didn’t give up on me. I should return the favor.”

Lukas shrugs Emil off. “This is something I have to do alone. Besides, I don’t think Mathias will want to be saved, least of all by me.” He turns back to the door. “It’s time this ended.”

 

Mathias’s ax blade collides with Elizaveta’s frying pan. He kicks free of the vines and gets upright. Elizaveta grins. She’s enjoying this on some level. Mathias is too, sort of. A fight against Elizaveta is easier to face than Lukas’s betrayal.

He swings at her middle. The blade nicks her side. Red dots her green dress. It doesn’t slow her at all. She laughs. “Is that all you’ve got?” Elizaveta slams the frying pan down on his arm.

Mathias almost loses hold of the ax. She’s powerful. He tries to hit her again, but only succeeds in grazing her leg. She’s also faster than him. Her hair whips behind her as she lunges for his abdomen, her free hand formed into a blade, surrounded by a haze of magic.

Before she can gut him, Elizaveta jerks backwards. Her eyes widen. There’s a golden chain wrapped around her ankle. Holding the other end is Lovino, smirking. He snaps his wrist and Elizaveta flies away from Mathias.

Mathias doesn’t have time to relax. One of the weaker mages jumps on his back. Mathias tries to shake him. There are gloved hands on his throat. Choking, Mathias throws himself at the wall, slamming his attacker against it. The grip loosens, but doesn’t vanish completely until Mathias does it a few more times. By the time the enemy mage slides off his back, he’s dizzy and coughing.

Elizaveta fights Lovino in the middle of the room. Flames, vines, water, and her frying pan whirl around them. Lovino is actually throwing punches at her. Mathias can’t find Feliciano at first, but soon locates the younger Vargas brother standing near a window. He has his hands pressed to the glass, his brow furrowed in concentration. He must be trying to break the seal on the house.

Mathias starts toward him, then remembers Lukas. He should be defending Feliciano. This is a battle. What will he even do with Lukas when he finds him? He still isn’t sure how to feel and the circumstances aren’t ideal for figuring that out.

One of Arthur’s spells goes off at his feet. Mathias falls. The ax slides from his grasp and out of reach. Arthur steps on his back.

“Distracted?” Arthur asks.

Mathias squirms. He twists his neck so he can see the Englishman standing above him. A ball of fire appears in Arthur’s palm. It casts sinister shadows on his face.

“Your clan’s collection of books will be quite useless without a keeper.”

“That’s what you think,” Mathias replies, thinking of his near complete translations back at the Vargas house. “Killing me won’t get you what you want.”

Arthur frowns. “You’ll regret crossing me, Køhler.”

Mathias makes a last desperate reach for his ax as he braces himself for the fire. His fingertips brush the handle. He can feel the flames about to strike him.

They never do. A shield goes up around Mathias a second before the fireball touches him.

“Lukas! What are you doing?”

Lukas stands in the corridor, his hand outstretched. “He’s mine, Arthur.” His voice is sharp and cold, like the look in his eyes.

Arthur lifts his foot from Mathias’s back. “Out of respect for your history, I’ll let you do the honors.”

Mathias gets to his knees. He thought Lukas ran. Apparently not. Lukas would never leave loose ends. Mathias’s hands clench into fists. There’s a tiny flicker of hope in him that Lukas has come back to rescue him.

Lukas kicks the ax toward Mathias. “One last battle, Mathias,” he says. He lifts his chin. “This time, we’ll finally kill each other.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final (official) chapter! Thank you all for reading and for the wonderful, encouraging comments!

Lukas is on autopilot. His movements are instinctive. Mathias uses magical attacks and he blocks them. Mathias uses the ax and Lukas dodges. There is no real thought, only action. He will not allow emotion to touch him. This is war.

“Why don’t you attack?” Mathias demands, pushing Lukas up the stairs. “You said you were going to kill me. Why are you just defending?”

“Did I say that?” Lukas asks in an even tone.

Mathias’s ax slams into the bannister. Splinters fly everywhere. “You led me into a trap.” Mathias yanks the blade free again. His face is red. He sounds like he might cry.

“I did.” “Why?” “Because I’m your enemy, Mathias.”

Mathias shakes his head violently. “You’re not. I love you.”

Lukas doesn’t reply. He looks down at the battle raging below them. It’s chaos. There are several bodies already. The Vargas brothers are holding their own against Elizaveta and Arthur. Their strength won’t last forever.

“You can still say that,” Lukas says, “even when I used you for my own gain?”

Mathias twists the ax’s handle. “You didn’t.”

“The ambush was my idea.”

“I don’t believe you.” However, Mathias’s eyes are uncertain. “They manipulated you into betraying me before. I’m sure they did it again.”

“And how do you know I wasn’t lying to you, back at the hotel?”

“Because I can tell when you’re lying!” He throws the ax on the ground. “Everything you said to me that night was real and you can’t start taking it back now.”

Lukas looks Mathias up and down. He’s a mess. This is why Lukas learned detachment. “Pick up your weapon,” he says.

“No.” “We’re in the middle of a battle, Mathias. This isn’t a play fight.”

“Then why aren’t you attacking me?”

Lukas tilts his head. He must keep his distance, no matter how much Mathias tries to pull him back in. “What’s it going to take for you to kill me?”

“Kill you?” Mathias asks, incredulous.

“We lost our chance to get out of the war. This is the only option left. One of us kills the other. You already know I can’t kill you, so I was waiting for you to take responsibility.”

Mathias stares at him like he’s looking at a stranger. Good. _It will make it easier_.

“What about Emil?”

“I arranged for Emil to go somewhere safe. He’ll be fine, maybe even better off, without me.”

“Can you hear yourself talk? This is crazy, Lukas. I won’t kill you.”

“Then we can kill each other.” Lukas forms several icicles in the air, all pointed at Mathias. “Maybe if I put in a serious effort, that’ll give you the motivation end it.”

“I won’t do it.”

So stubborn. Lukas keeps the icicles trained on Mathias. “Then what happens next? You and I injure each other like we did in Prague and go back to our lives with our clans, pretending nothing happened? Or do you think we could really maintain an affair?”

“Don’t call it that.”

“This is the only way out,” Lukas says and he’s disappointed at how tired he sounds. He’s trying to sound decisive, not depressed. Mathias might kill him out of pity. If he’s going to die, it’s going to be at Mathias’s hand, no matter how that comes to pass. Lukas will be free and Mathias’s loyalty won’t be questioned.

“There are always other options,” Mathias insists. “Just let me think…”

“Not this time, Mathias.”

 

Emil listens to the battle from the kitchen. He promised Lukas he would wait here when he refused to leave. He wants to know what’s really happening out there. Lukas wasn’t clear on what he intended to do.

The whole house shakes. A bit of dust rains down from the ceiling. Emil gets up. Even a small battle between a handful of mages might be enough to bring the house down. He considers getting out, but he made a decision to stick by Lukas.

Emil paces up and down the hollowed out kitchen. Someone screams. It could be Lukas or Mathias. Emil puts his ear to the door. He hears the crackle of flames and wood breaking. His curiosity burns. He can’t just sit here as if he’s totally helpless; he’s a mage.

He makes sure the satchel is secure around him, then opens the door. Emil keeps his back to the wall as he creeps down the corridor. They’ve probably forgotten he’s here.

Everything bends: the walls, windows, and doors. Emil jumps away from the wall he’s pressed against. Glass shatters in the next room. He runs to the end of the hallway, not caring about stealth anymore.

“Lovi! The seals are taken care of!” Feliciano cries as he deflects a bolt of magic. He backs toward one of the broken windows.

Lovino nods sharply. He points at the staircase, which explodes. The room is filled with even more dust and magic haze than before. Emil ducks as pieces of wood clatter around him. There’s another explosion. This one seems to come from upstairs.

A hand touches his back. Emil jumps and spins around ready to fend off an attacker. It’s Feliciano, hands raised palm out.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” he squeaks.

Emil fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Obviously not. Where’s my brother?”

“Lukas and Mathias went upstairs. They were fighting.” Feliciano takes Emil’s hand. “We have to get out of here. The whole place is about to cave in.”

“But Lukas and Mathias…”

“They’ll be fine,” Feliciano says, smiling reassuringly. “Now let’s get out of here before those awful people realize we’re escaping.”

Feliciano drags Emil to the window and gently pushes him through. Emil feels the house shudder again as he climbs out. He cuts his hands on some of the broken glass. Feliciano is right behind him, pushing him toward the street. Emil lets himself be pushed. He doesn’t have much of a choice.

The building makes a horrible sound. Emil looks over his shoulder. The roof falls inward. His heart stops for half a second. Lukas and Mathias are still in there.

“We need to go back,” he says.

“Too dangerous,” Feliciano insists. “Let me see your hands.”

Emil pulls them away. Feliciano looks hurt. Emil refuses to feel bad about it. Technically, Feliciano was his warden up until today, so he reminds himself that he’s justified in not accepting his help any more than he’s comfortable with.

“I can take care of myself.” Emil heals his cuts with a quick wave of his hand.

“I know.” Feliciano turns to the house. It’s starting to collapse. Bricks slide out of the walls and crash to the ground.

A pair of bright flashes shoot from the sagging roof. Someone is still fighting in there. Emil starts to cross the street, only to have both Feliciano and Lovino hold him back. He pulls against them.

“Let me go! Lukas is in there!”

“Your brother’s got a lot more to worry about than a collapsing building,” Lovino snaps back. “Calm down.”

“Lovino,” Feliciano says.

“What do you mean?” Emil asks.

“He and Mathias were going at it. It looked like they were out for blood.”

Lukas must have been right about Mathias not wanting to be saved. Emil watches as the house falls to pieces, glass, brick, and wood scattering everywhere as frightened passersby dart away from it. He’s never seen a building collapse in person before. His eyes are stuck on it. There’s a part of him that finds it beautiful, even as he seeks out any sign of Lukas among the rubble.

Feliciano squeezes his shoulder. “He might have gotten out,” he says.

“Yeah. He probably put up a shield or something.” Emil doesn’t really believe that though.

Once the dust clears, he and the twins approach the wreckage. The smell of magic burns in Emil’s nostrils. He kicks aside mangled bricks as he softly calls Lukas’s name, then Mathias’s. There is no answer. Feliciano casts a spell to clear some of the larger pieces away.

“Emil.” Lovino is standing over a body. Though Emil can already guess what’s happened, he convinces himself that it can’t be Lukas. Because Lukas is smarter than that. He wouldn’t die from something so trivial.

His brother does not look peaceful in death. His blond hair is colored grey and brown with ash. His eyes are open, blood drying on his parted lips. Emil swallows a scream of rage as he kneels beside Lukas’s body. Very gently, he rolls his older brother onto his back. There is a large, unmistakable wound in his chest.

“Mathias,” Emil whispers hoarsely. He closes Lukas’s eyes. Bile rises in his throat. He has never been this angry before, not even when he was kidnapped. Emil remembers Mathias speaking to him in the Vargases living room. That sincerity must have been faked. Emil kicks himself for ever hoping that they could be a family again.

“I’m going to kill him,” he announces as he stands. “If he thought Lukas’s revenge would be bad…”

“You won’t have to,” Feliciano says, dragging a limp figure from underneath a pile of planks. Mathias’s face is streaked with blood from a head wound. There’s a puncture straight through his chest, probably from a bolt of magic that hit home. Emil hopes it was Lukas.

That’s it then. He has no one left. Berwald and Tino aren’t an option and there’s no way he’s staying with the twins. Emil racks his brain for an address he can stay at. There must be somewhere they won’t find him.

Someone clears their throat. Emil whips around. Arthur and Elizaveta are balanced on a miniature hill of bricks, both of them looking worse for wear. Emil moves back a few steps, prepared to throw up a shield in case they attack. However, neither of them moves.

Arthur looks down at Lukas, his features twisted in pain. He climbs down to crouch by Lukas’s side. He reaches to touch the young man’s face.

Emil charges forward and smacks Arthur’s hand away. “Don’t touch him!”

Arthur’s head snaps up. His eyes are wet. Emil should feel sympathetic. Arthur wasn’t trying to get Lukas killed. Yet Emil feels nothing but contempt for him.

“This is your fault,” he hisses. “If you’d just let him live his life, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Emil.” Arthur tries to sound stern, but it won’t work.

“You might have had some hold over my brother, but I don’t belong to you,” Emil continues. He points at the Vargas brothers. “I don’t belong to them either. I’m not going to be a part of this.”

“Where else can you go?” Elizaveta asks bitterly.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I hope you’re both sorry. Have fun killing each other.” Emil spins around and marches down the street. Soon enough, he hears footsteps behind him. It’s Feliciano.

“Wait! Emil, where are you going?”

“Weren’t you paying attention? Anywhere is better than here.”

“Emil, you could stay with us. Lovi and I don’t mind. At least let us find you a place to live.”

Emil swings at and misses Feliciano. “I don’t want your charity.”

“Lukas’s body…”

“They can have it. He’s not in there anyway.” Tears are pouring down his cheeks. They sting in the cold. “He told me to get away, so that’s what I’m doing. I’ll fight you if I have to.”

“You couldn’t fight me,” Feliciano says, smiling warmly. “Besides, I don’t want to. But are you really sure you can just leave like this?”

“Yes. Don’t follow me.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Emil thought he’d have to argue some more. Feliciano simply watches him go, a wistful look on his face. For the first time, Emil considers himself lucky. He’s the only one who can walk away.

 

Travel is slow. Emil decides not to use magic, out of respect for Lukas and safety. The warring clans might try to track him that way. He waits at the train station, studying the letter Lukas left him. It doesn’t say any of the things Emil hoped it would. All there is written on it is an address in Switzerland and the names of the people who live there. “Tell them you’re my brother. They should be expecting you.”

Emil doesn’t like to acknowledge it, but he wonders if Lukas was planning to die. The way that he and Mathias looked, it seemed like they’d killed each other. A double suicide? Mathias would never agree to that. Thinking about it makes Emil feel cold inside, so he stops. He doesn’t want to start crying in the middle of the train station.

He sleeps fitfully on the train, dreaming of the past. He wakes up expecting to see Lukas and Mathias on the seat across from him. Emil thought he heard them arguing. They’re not there.

_That’s right. They’re dead._

 

Emil knocks on the door of what he’s sure is the right house and holds his breath. A young man answers the door. He glares at Emil for a second.

“Are you Lukas’s brother?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Emil moves to come inside, but the man stops him.

“One second,” he says. He shouts a name over his shoulder and a girl appears. She wears a ribbon in her hair. Her smile is comforting.

The girl holds out her hands. “Please,” she says. Emil places his palms on top of hers. Magic rushes through him, leaving a tingle at the top of his head. The girl’s eyelashes flutter against her cheeks. She drops his hands.

“He is who he says,” the girl says, a note of sadness in her gentle voice. “Come in. Can I get you something to eat? To drink?”

Emil follows the young man and woman into the house. It smells like gentle magic, used for little things like cleaning and protection. There are cross stitches and watercolors on the walls. Emil takes it all in longingly. This is the sort of place he dreamed of owning as a boy.

The pair introduce themselves as Vash and Lilli, the names in the letter. Despite Emil’s protests that he isn’t hungry, Lilli starts making cookies anyway. Vash grills him on what happened and Emil reluctantly recounts it.

“So you two aren’t a part of it?” he asks.

“Never were,” Vash confirms. He pauses. “I’m sorry about your brother. And that other guy.”

Emil nods. “I am too.”

 

The book is theirs once more. The Vargas brothers didn’t even try to retrieve it. They were too busy transporting their fallen comrade. However, Arthur can’t call this a victory. They lost several members, including Lukas. He writes the report with a heavy heart.

_Where did I go wrong?_ he wonders. It was supposed to be a simple ambush. He had underestimated Køhler’s allies. The enemy must have held their Bookkeeper in high regard if the Vargas family was protecting him. Arthur makes a note of their presence, but tries to downplay their involvement. They were an unexpected development. Nothing more. It helps cut the sting of humiliation.

Arthur flips through the book. It doesn’t excite him like it did when they first got their hands on it. Lukas was willing to give it up to see his brother. Maybe that was the problem; Lukas had too many emotional ties to this operation. It’s a shame that Emil is still unwilling to fight for them. He has a lot of potential.

There was someone else with a lot of potential. Arthur glances at the photo. He understands, really, but this bigger than them as individuals. He knows that there are sacrifices. Lukas gave up a lot to be one of them; Arthur respects that.

And he regrets it.

 

They burn Mathias on a pyre at the pond. Feliciano says it’s a warrior’s tradition, though Lovino argues Mathias was more of a librarian than anything.

“He was from Denmark.”

“That doesn’t make him a Viking.”

“He had an ax.”

“Okay. Fair enough.”

It’s just them. Roderich has promised to visit in a few days and so has Antonio, but neither of them is here yet. Feliciano throws flowers onto the water and sings a hymn. Lovino joins in softly, less confidently. The fire turns the water orange and red.

“Lovi,” Feliciano says as they walk back to the house. “I don’t want anyone else to die.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because this is war, Feliciano. What do you think happens?”

“I never wanted there to be a war.”

“No, shit. I didn’t either, but this is what we’re stuck with.”

They continue walking in silence for a few more feet.

“Do you think he might have been planning to not come back?” Feliciano asks. “He finished most of his work. It didn’t seem weird at the time.”

Lovino shrugs. “We might never know. I’m fine with that.”

“I’m not.”

Lovino stops and turns toward his brother. “I know you aren’t,” he said. “You don’t have to be. Feel however you wanna feel. All I’m saying is that it’s kind of pointless now.”

There’s a beat before Feliciano nods, like he wants to say something else. He doesn’t.

 

Three weeks pass. Emil gets used to living with Lilli and Vash. It’s nice, actually. He doesn’t have to pay rent. He doesn’t have to worry about being discovered. The neighborhood is a lot quieter than the one in Helsinki. Lilli teaches him German.

He starts taking care of the garden. Emil likes to work outside. He likes putting magic into the ground to encourage the flowers to bloom. The soil smells sweet and clean. The flowers are beautiful, the roses especially. Emil doesn’t know much about gardening at first, but Vash has plenty of books.

Lukas’s absence is still there, like a hole he can’t cover up. He tries to fill it with tulip bulbs. Emil pictures him arriving one day without warning, like he used to. In these daydreams, Lukas is a little scruffy but alive. Mathias is with him, also alive.

“What made you think we were dead?” Mathias would say, laughing.

“Did you really miss me?” Lukas would ask.

Emil knows it won’t happen, but his heart still jumps whenever there’s a knock on the door.

One morning he wakes up before Lilli and Vash — an impressive feat, considering Vash gets up with the sun. The house is silent. Grey light pours in through the windows. Emil lifts his head off the pillow and looks around. The silence reminds him of when he was kidnapped and his whole body stiffens for a second. When he remembers that he’s safe, he crawls out from under the covers.

Emil goes downstairs to make a cup of coffee. The scent reminds him of Lukas. He’s pouring himself a cup when he hears a rattle in the mailbox. It’s too early. Emil creeps to the door and looks through the peephole. No one is there. He reaches beyond the door with magic. He can’t sense any presence either. Confused, he unlocks the door and steps outside.

Vash’s defenses are still in place. There’s no way an enemy got past them. Even so, Emil is cautious lifting the lid of the mailbox. He expects a magical bomb to go off, but instead there’s only a letter. He takes it inside.

His name is written on the envelope. No stamps or return address. The handwriting is familiar. With trembling fingers, Emil tears it open. He almost rips the paper inside.

Emil sits down to read the letter. It doesn’t say much. He should have known. The words blur as tears fill his eyes. He rubs them away with his sleeve and reads it again.

_We’re fine. Love, Lukas._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A soft, cheesy epilogue to soothe the pain. And with that, the fic is complete!

Mathias wakes up to the sound of violin music. Lukas is playing again. Mathias smiles to himself as he rolls over and sits up. He follows the sound to the living room. Lukas is posed in front of the window, his hands curved delicately around the bow and the neck of the violin. The piece is light and airy.

“Morning,” Mathias says. “What are you up to?”

“Practicing. This is a hard piece.”

Mathias makes himself some toast. He listens to Lukas for a while, then puts some milk in a dish for the fairies Lukas swears live at the bottom of the garden. As he sets the dish on the back step, he searches for them, but he isn’t gifted with the sight. He supposes that it’s enough that the milk vanishes by the end of the day.

Lukas has finished playing when he comes back inside. He’s in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of black coffee. He stops Mathias on the way to the toaster and kisses him.

“You didn’t brush your teeth yet,” Lukas says with a grimace.

“I just woke up. It’s seven in the morning.”

Lukas shrugs and sips his coffee. It feels nice, eating breakfast at the same table, waking up beside each other, not fighting. The only thing that could make it better is if Emil were there. Mathias stares out the window while he eats his toast. He hopes Emil is happy.

Lukas has a job as a barista at coffee shop in town, so he leaves, placing a hurried kiss on Mathias’s cheek.

“Have a good day,” Mathias says, giving one back. “See you later. Stay safe.”

“You too.”

He still feels skittish, watching Lukas walk down the drive. To the war, they’re casualties. Mathias got word that both he and Lukas were buried weeks ago. But they could be found any day through sheer chance. Or their clans know they’re alive and are just waiting to strike.

It hasn’t been ideal. Neither he nor Lukas have stopped looking over their shoulders just yet. That doesn’t stop Mathias from being happy. He hasn’t been actually happy in a long time, so he’s squeezing every drop of enjoyment from each day.

They don’t use much magic. Anything big would start attracting attention, but it’s safe to expedite cleaning and keep their employers from poking through their records. There are also wards around the house, in case anyone comes searching. Mathias hopes that one day they won’t need them anymore, but that’s a long way off.

Mathias showers and gets dressed. He works in a chain bookstore, also in town. Occasionally he goes to bother Lukas on his lunch breaks. He has a reputation among Lukas’s coworkers now.

“Your boyfriend’s so sweet,” one of them said the second time he dropped in.

Lukas shot Mathias a withering scowl. “No he’s not. He’s a pest.”

“You hurt my feelings, Lukas,” Mathias said. “I’m a great boyfriend.”

“ _Boyfriend_.” Lukas rolled the word around on his tongue. “That’s such a flimsy little word.”

Mathias leaned on the counter and peered up into Lukas’s dark blue eyes. “How about ‘husband’?”

Lukas turned pink. His coworker laughed. “If you’re done teasing me, you should get back to work,” he said.

But he’d still kissed Mathias on the way out, his hand warm on the back of Mathias’s neck.

It’s a slow day. Mathias zones out behind the counter. He keeps thinking of what they did and why. When he first suggested they fake their deaths, Lukas hadn’t wanted to hear it. For a second, Mathias thought he might have really lost him for good. It scared him. They had almost died for real trying to pull it off.

Lukas had retrieved a pair of bodies and glamoured them so that it would look as though they died. The spell had to be strong enough to last for however long it took them to be buried, meaning that Lukas was out of commission after casting it. Mathias had been the one to teleport them out.

That first night, when they were still wandering, Lukas had cried.

“I just got Emil back,” he said. “Now…”

“You’ll see him again.” Mathias held Lukas for as long as he would let him.

A customer walks through the door and the bell rings, snapping Mathias out of his daze.

 

They cook dinner together. Lukas is better at it, but he refuses to do it by himself, lest Mathias start thinking of him as a “wife.” He checks the milk dish while the pot is boiling; it’s empty. Lukas glances at the bottom of the garden. A tiny, glowing figure darts behind the fence.

The fair folk know he’s here. Lukas talks to them only if they talk to him. It would be rude not to. The ones he’s spoken to swear up and down that they haven’t told any other humans. Lukas doesn’t know how much he can trust them, but seeing as Arthur hasn’t kicked his door down yet, he’s safe for the time being.

“I saw you sent something to Emil,” Mathias says as they set the table.

Lukas tenses. “I did. I thought it had been long enough.”

“What if he comes looking for us?”

“He won’t. You don’t know Emil as well as you think you do.”

Mathias frowns but decides not to argue. They have dinner. They wash up. It’s surreal. Lukas has been transient for so long that it’s weird to just stop. It feels like riding a bicycle after years of avoiding the things. He knows how to do it; he’s a little wobbly is all.

“Look what I got at the bookstore today!” Mathias announces, waving a DVD box in the air.

Lukas takes it from him. “Mathias, no,” he says, reading the title.

“Lukas, this is my favorite story ever and I won’t let you rain on my parade. Besides, it’s the Disney version. No dramatic death at the end.”

“Then there’s no point.”

Mathias takes the box back. “The Little Mermaid is a classic. And you’ve never seen it.”

“I was busy dealing with actual mermaids.”

“These mermaids are better.”

This is the first time they’ve ever watched a movie together. When they lived with each other in Copenhagen, movies weren’t really a thing. Sitting on the couch, leaning on Mathias’s shoulder, should be a normal activity, but it’s a foreign experience.

“You know,” Lukas admits as the movie starts, “I think I understand why you like this story so much. It’s a good one, even if your reading of it is a little naïve.”

Mathias snorts. “After this one, we should watch the version they made in 1975.”

“That’s all you want to do now that you have me? Watch The Little Mermaid?”

“No, but I could probably do nothing with you and still be happy.”

Lukas smiles. He feels Mathias’s lips in his hair. “We have a lot of catching up to do,” he says.

“I’m ready if you are.”


End file.
